The Clash of the Armadas
by MajorArcana2
Summary: "Chaol had said he wanted to return to his room to think. But he could not form any thoughts at all. Aelin was gone. Well, he supposed, they would just have to get her back. But he could not do anything at that moment, so instead, he pulled Yrene into a long hug and they stared together at Aelin's massive fleet. But—it was Rowan's fleet, wasn't it?" A few reunions and a war or two.
1. All Time Low

They'd been on the gods-damned ship for twelve weeks.

Twelve weeks, Chaol, Yrene, Nesryn, Sartaq, Hasar, Borte, and Hafiza had been sailing through the Narrow Sea. And only then, only after those twelve weeks had passed, did they encounter another fleet.

The water around them certainly lived up to its name, Chaol thought, as the ships in their armada were forced to even into two columns to pass through, in over 200 rows. His heart contracted again as he glanced back at it, the progress he'd made. And they still hadn't even collided with the khagan's other half yet.

Chaol found himself glancing to the other thing he'd undoubtedly managed to accomplish. Yrene was already smiling back at him, as if she'd been waiting for him to look at her. She wouldn't have had to have been waiting long; Chaol always found himself looking at her. It had been so long since that night deep under the Torre and yet he still so easily beheld the hope she represented.

"Do you think it's them?" she asked, and though she hid it easily, he heard the curiosity and excitement deeply unfurling within her. Ever since he'd told her that her mystery savior had been Aelin herself, Yrene had been dying to meet her.

Chaol ran an eye up and down her body. Not because he wanted to bed her—they'd done enough of that the night before—but because he almost tricked himself into believing he could see the hope in her, falling off her in radiating, bright waves.

So he replied, "I hope so."

. . .

As it turns out, his hope had proved true. It was only an hour after Hasar had originally spotted that other fleet through her binoculars—perhaps 20 miles away—that Kadara had come soaring towards them. Chaol hopped into a row boat with Yrene and they sailed quickly toward where Sartaq had landed his great mount just on the shore.

Chaol still considered it a miracle that his muscles were not even sore by the time they reached them. By the fact that he could move his muscles enough to reach Sartaq in the first place.

"What did you see?" Chaol asked, before the boat had even gotten close enough for Sartaq to hear.

But he understood. "It is unbelievably large, but not all together."

"What do you mean?" Yrene asked before Chaol could.

"I mean there is a small fleet of Whitethorn ships, a large armada from the Red Desert, an even bigger one form Wendlyn," Sartaq explained, and then paused. "But the largest section of all of them comes from Terrasen."

Then it was confirmed. Here was Aelin and her court of ragtags and Fae, and heroes, all of them perhaps responsible for the winning of this great war ahead of them. Here was _Dorian._ His king. His best friend. His brother.

"Oh," Sartaq added with a playful smirk. "And a colossal host of wyverns."

. . .

According to Sartaq, Nesryn had gone ahead to signal the leading ship to dock, so that Chaol and his group could board, for they had much to discuss. Once Yrene and Chaol had rejoined that group aboard their own boat, they all heard the triumphant call of Salkhi, Nesryn's own ruk. He watched as she circled a few times over a particular spot of land, signaling Chaol to dock there. Then, the ruk landed.

Chaol's very bones were buzzing at the thought that they would finally be reuniting with Aelin. She would have a full army, not just the few Fae warriors he'd left her with. And Dorian…

Chaol could still barely comprehend that Dorian was safe. But they idea that he would soon be able to protect his king himself, ensure that he would never be harmed…Chaol had to choke back tears.

Yrene squeezed his hand in understanding. He grinned fiercely. He could wait for them to meet.

"Finally," sneered Hasar from behind them. "Some answers. Oh, and Lord Westfall, would you tell me about the Wolf of the North? He rather intrigues me."

Judging by the mischievous look on the princess' face, this was a meeting Chaol was _not_ looking forward too.

It seemed to take days for Chaol's fleet to reach Aelin's. Yrene kept chiding him, explaining that if he wasn't fidgeting so damn hard, the time would likely go faster. But he couldn't help it. Finally, something he could be proud of. He could clasp arms with Rowan again and be doing it on his feet. He could stand next to Dorian and feel their shoulders touch. He could get readjusted to towering inches over Aelin.

This was everything he'd been waiting for.

Suddenly overwhelmed by emotion, Chaol whirled gracefully on his heel and took Yrene by the waist, pulling her into a deep kiss. She gave a startled laugh and then wrapped her arms around his neck. He could feel her smiling against his own lips.

Hasar gave a pointed cough. Chaol had forgotten she'd been waiting for information on _the Wolf of the North._ Surely, Aedion's head would explode when Chaol told him he was renowned not just in Adarlan, but the Southern Continent as well.

"Nothing really to know. He's cocky and territorial, but he makes up for it in his army skills. I suppose," Chaol begrudged. Hasar grunted at the lack of information and stormed away.

He and Yrene couldn't help but laugh.

Chaol was not nervous when they stepped off their ship, hours later, he was not nervous as he walked the few minutes in the direction of Aelin's fleet. He was not scared of these people. With Yrene clasping his hand, he was not even scared of Erawan. Or Maeve.

But something stirred deep in his gut when he beheld Rowan standing there to greet him, not Aelin.

"You're walking," Rowan commented, nodding grimly. There was something very off about the male, something even grumpier than he usually was. He gave Yrene one pitiful glance before he nodded and walked onto the ship, his sword clanging against his leg.

"Hello to you, too," Chaol muttered under his breath before he tugged Yrene after him as they followed Rowan. He was barely aware that Nesryn and the others were following as well. But he was entirely aware that Rowan heard his sarcastic comment. And perhaps Chaol had done it to startle a reaction of the prince. Even just a snarl, or a sneer. But he just kept on walking.

But all thoughts emptied Chaol's head when he heard a voice as familiar as Yrene's, calling to him from the deck of the ship.

And though his muscles had indeed begun to grow sore with the constant boarding and getting off of large ships, Chaol did not care one bit as he begun to run as fast as he could—on a ship—towards Dorian.

All formalities, also, left his mind in that moment, it seemed.

He only caught a flash of tousled black hair and a signature, winning smile before Chaol had the prince in his arms.

Waves of emotion coursed through him as Dorian wrapped his arms around Chaol, in turn. He was alive and well. Healthy. Happy. Not angry at Chaol. And Chaol…he was taller than Dorian. He'd forgotten that.

Dorian had been saying things, but Chaol didn't start hearing them until he finally pulled away. "You've been healed. You've done it," Dorian commented, awestruck.

Chaol lowered his head, a grin on his face. Than he gestured with an arm toward the fleet he'd brought. "I brought you an army, as well."

Dorian did look, take it all in. His eyes widened, as if he hadn't even seen it yet. But when he turned back at Chaol, there was silver lining his eyes.

Chaol understood. Deeply. But he gave the king a chance to compose himself before he stepped aside, saying, "I'd like you to meet someone."

Dorian put his famed smile back on as he beheld Yrene. Chaol chuckled a little at the look in her eye; she clearly hadn't been expecting to be introduced so soon.

Well, then she didn't understand how much she meant to him yet. He'd have to emphasize that later.

"This is Yrene," Chaol explained as she bowed slightly. "All of this," Chaol gestured to his legs, the armada they'd brought. "It's because of her."

"Then I owe you my life," Dorian said and he stepped forward to take her hand.

"I-I haven't done anything for you, yet, Your Majesty," Yrene sputtered, and Chaol fought against his amused grin even though she wasn't looking at him.

"You saved my brother," Dorian countered smoothly. And he knew—they both knew—that she had only made him walk. But Dorian ad Yrene were both aware that to Chaol, he did not have a life he could not effectively fight for those he loved. "That is a life debt, in my mind."

And he lowered to press a kiss to her hand.

That's when Dorian caught sight of the ring on her finger.

He whirled, not dropping Yrene's outstretched hand, to Chaol. "My gods!" he exclaimed. It could have been a ring to any man, but Dorian had also registered the matching one on Chaol's hand. "And you didn't even invite me to the wedding?"

Chaol spread his arms as if asking, _What can I say?_ "We were on a bit of a stretch for time, Your Majesty."

Dorian tipped back his head and laughed, finally releasing Yrene's hand. "Well, either way, congratulations, brother."

Chaol nodded his head in thanks.

Rowan pointedly coughed behind them. Chaol turned and suddenly felt very immature for the time they'd taken to forget the war and hurt in the very air surrounding them. "We have business to attend to, do we not?"

And with that, Rowan stomped off deeper into the ship, expecting them to follow.

As they did, Chaol looked back to Dorian once more. "What's wrong?" He asked him.

Dorian tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace—at least, it did to Chaol. "This is war, Chaol," he covered up. "Everyone is on edge."

But any happiness that had been there just seconds before…not one ounce of it was left.

. . .

Just ten minutes later, they were all sitting in the biggest room on the ship, which was still not very big. And by everyone, he meant _everyone._

The most important people of Chaol's group: him, Yrene, Nesryn, Sartaq, and Hasar. Along with the most important in Aelin's court: Rowan, Aedion, Manon, Dorian, and three others he did not recognize.

But Aelin herself had not yet shown up. But there was still a seat open between Rowan and Aedion, which was reassuring to Chaol. Just then, the door opened and Aelin swaggered into the room. Her appearance triggered an ache in his heart, but Chaol knew instantly that something was wrong. Something had gone very bad.

She took a seat next to Rowan. Aedion, Chaol noticed, who usually tracked the princess' every movement, had not looked at her once. Rowan managed one glance at Aelin, before he looked back down at his boots.

Aelin walked to Chaol, and he stood to embrace her, though it was awkward. "It's good to see you Chaol," she said, and though the hint of swagger was there, her voice shook along with her confidence.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chaol so Yrene reach for the note in her locket, as if she was going to introduce herself to the princess now. But Chaol sat again when Aelin turned away, and placed a hand on hers. She glanced at him, but he shook his head, no. She furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

But Rowan then began speaking. He told them of how Aelin had been refused in Terrasen, and of the progress they'd made in Skull's Bay. He told them of all the battles they had one and discoveries they had made in between. But when it came to talk of the battle Hasar had reported on…

"We fought over the waters, while Aelin and Maeve fought individually miles away," when Chaol sneered, Rowan added, "She went without telling us. We wouldn't have let her go. She must have been concerned for casualties. By the time we were got there, Aelin was weak, but Maeve was gone."

He explained that they hadn't defeated her in the war, but just that one battle. Chaol was doubtful. But Rowan nodded to him, and so Chaol told them of what he had encountered in Antica. He handed it off to Nesryn when he was finished to speak of her discoveries in the aerie with Sartaq and the rukhin. Chaol knew they were all processing every word, but none of Aelin's court looked at all like they were paying attention.

"I have one question," Nesryn said, when she finished. "Who are they?" She pointed to the three people on the end that Chaol didn't recognize. Two Fae male and one small, frail human girl.

The girl, surprisingly, stepped up first. "I am Elide. I am part human, and part Ironteeth witch. I also come from Terrasen. I made it out with my uncle, who later imprisoned me in a tower," she paused, taking a deep breath. This poor girl had endured so much, and she likely wasn't even halfway through her story. He noticed the male on her right, a very cold-looking Fae, try to take her hand and she brutally snapped it out of his reach, gritting her teeth.

Brave girl, to blatantly refuse such a powerful being. Chaol immediately liked her. "Until he took me to Morath." Again, silence filled the room as the girl continued. So she had been on the inside. "There, I saw many horrors. Such as breeding between Valg foot soldiers and Yellowlegs witches." Chaol saw Manon's iron teeth slide viciously from their sheaths. "Manon helped me escape. But I was being hunted. By Lorcan Salvaterre," she pointed angrily toward the male who had tried to take her hand. "Now a former servant of Maeve. As is Gavriel." The other male. "Lorcan helped me get here, and now here I am. With my queen." The last three words sounded _incredibly_ forced.

The last male, however, Gavriel, looked stunningly like…

"Holy hell," Chaol muttered, but the room was quiet enough that it was heard. Chaol looked back to Aedion, and then Gavriel whose head was down, and then Aedion, who said, "Oh, whatever, Westfall. Yes, the man is my father."

Well, that was done with.

Sartaq spoke up next. "Manon Blackbeak, yes?" Manon nodded. "Heir to the Blackbeak clan of the Ironteeth witches? Forgive me, but I thought you led a coven of thirteen, not _a thousand_ and thirteen." Obviously, Sartaq hadn't exaggerated enough when he'd described the host of wyverns to him. "Has your grandmother died so soon?"

Manon's chin lifted. "I didn't kill my grandmother, for the things she had done for Erawan behind my back. But it is not Blackbeak witches that I lead, for that act of treachery, and one other. In fact, for my title to be complete, Winged Prince, you must add 'Queen of the Crochan Witches' as well."

Sartaq sat back smiling, cocky that she knew him. But Chaol was shocked. Though it was Yrene who spoke up. "Sorry, I thought the Ironteeth witches and the Crochan witches were enemies?"

Manon didn't look up from picking at her iron nails, as if to intimidate Yrene, who didn't seem to be paying attention. "They are. But as it seems, my parents were not."

Simple enough, then.

"So, I suppose we can be done here? The only truly important thing we learned is that healers can—well— _heal_ a Valg demon out of somebody. Which is useful, but not at the moment, seeing as we have no currently Valg-infested people on our ship," Aedion snapped abruptly. That was the last straw.

"One more thing," Chaol said, and Aedion through a glare bordering on hateful in his direction.

But Chaol was looking directly at Aelin, who had not spoken a word at all.

"Who in hell are you?"

Dorian sighed. Everybody sighed. "Well, all credit to you, Lysandra, but we all knew we wouldn't be able to fool Chaol anyway."

"My problem is that you _tried,_ " Chaol growled. He then turned to Yrene and said, "I'm sorry."

"So," Nesryn said. "Is anyone going to tell us what _really_ happened at that last battle?"

Silence followed. Chaol's stomach gave way and if he hadn't already been sitting, he would've then. Silence spoke words enough.

But then Elide spoke up. She stared at the floor, and Chaol could see tears already lining her eyes. "I saw the most," she admitted. Chaol found himself wishing she hadn't. "When I got there, Maeve and Aelin were deep in battle. And I never saw Aelin fight like it truly mattered, but…something was wrong. Maeve's shots, with her darkness, were direct. Each one found their mark, and Aelin was screaming, but she didn't even seem to be in pain. But when she gave blows of fire, they were haphazard, almost never aimed true. And I knew she had the capacity to and I was so confused as to why she _wasn't…_

"But then it stopped. Altogether. Suddenly, another Fae male showed up—Cairn, Maeve called him." Chaol felt, rather than saw, Rowan tense considerably at the name. Chaol felt like he was going to vomit. "He tied Aelin up. And I tried to go to her, but then Lorcan was there and…" her voice changed to furious. "He held me back. There was nothing I could've done—I'm just a human, no powers, I don't even know how to fight. But I would have _tried._ Maeve started saying things, horrible things that I haven't even told anyone until now." Both Aedion and Rowan snapped to attention, Lorcan leaning back in his chair with a hand over his eyes.

"She told her that she knew what Aelin was doing. That she wasn't going to let Aelin drain herself of her power, let herself be killed. She said—and maybe this was just to torture me—but she explained everything. How—how-," Elide bowed her heads into her hands and did not lift it as she continued. "How for Aelin to shut the wyrdgate, she would have to die. And that Maeve was _never_ going to let that happen.

Rowan fell to his knees. Elide choked and sobbed over the next words out of her mouth. "They whipped her—for hours. And she didn't scream, not once. They restarted probably fifty times, because Maeve wanted her to count and Aelin wouldn't, not for her. That Cairn—that horrible male—was smiling and laughing the whole time. Gavriel and Fenrys showed up next. And they didn't even try to save her. They just watched as Maeve put Aelin in an _iron coffin_ with chains and cuffs and a gods-damned mask. And the closed it.

"She released Lorcan and Gavriel of their bonds, leaving them there weak and dishonorable. And now Aelin is gone." Elide finally lifted her head from her hands, and despite her tears, despite her unbelievable smallness, she had fire in her eyes that was akin to Aelin's. "And the _worst_ part," she said, standing and staring directly at Lorcan's guilty face. "Is that you told me you loved me and then you _held me back._ You made me watch, _helpless. Useless._ Just the things you said I wasn't. You are a horrible male, Lorcan Salvaterre and I wish it was you in that gods-damned coffin and _not her!_ "

With that, Elide tore from the room, slamming the door behind her. Chaol had gravely underestimated that girl. He felt like he was caught in a very severe lovers spat, as did everyone else in the room, judging by their expressions.

Rowan, who was limp and awestruck on the floor, simply said, "I hope you're making to go after her Lorcan. You never know how much _time_ you'll have."

Lorcan only nodded and vanished after her.

After a few moments of silence, Chaol said. "So, what? You planned to deceive all of Terrasen using Lysandra?" He gestured to the girl who had changed back to her own form.

Aedion, somewhat absentmindedly, answered, "Yes, and I was to play father behind the door of the bedroom."

The _thought…_

Aedion looked as if he agreed.

"I…" Chaol stumbled over his words. "I need to think."

He stood, Yrene at his tail, as the exited the ship.

. . .

There was one thing Nesryn had to do. She said as much when Sartaq had echoed Chaol's sentiment.

"Lysandra," she said, taking the shifter by the hand. She looked equally tired, but Nesryn wanted her to meet Falkan, and see if her theory had been correct. "I think I found your uncle."

Lysandra immediately stopped. "What? T-they told me he was dead."

Nesryn shook her head, "I'm quite sure that he isn't."

She led her off the ship and back toward their own. It was dark. She hadn't realized how long they had spent in that suffocating room. Only the feel of Sartaq squeezing her hand the whole time had kept her tethered to that room. Now, he walked on her other side, and all she really wanted to do was go with him and curl up in his arms and cry.

But when she reached Falkan's room, and she beheld the expression on his face, she felt differently.

He fell to his knees, Lysandra joining him. "You look…" Falkan sobbed. "Just like her."

His sister. Lysandra was crying too as he trailed his fingers over her face. "I do? I—I don't even remember."

All Falkan could do was nod. And then he muttered, "Come in, and tell me what a life you've lived."

She nodded and they went into his room, shutting the door behind them. But Nesryn heard the first thing she said to him, "My name is Lysandra."

And Nesryn barely made it to the room she shared with Sartaq before she fell into his arms and fulfilled her earlier wish.

. . .

Chaol had said he wanted to return to his room to think. But as he stood, staring out at Aelin's fleet, he could not form any thoughts at all. Aelin was gone.

Well, he supposed, they would just have to get her back.

But he could not do anything at that moment, so instead, he pulled Yrene into a long hug and they stared together at Aelin's massive fleet.

But—it was Rowan's fleet, now, wasn't it?


	2. What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

There was only one thing Aelin was aware of. She had to get out of here. She's been in Maeve's prison, cuffed, chained, and masked for…five months? Aelin had never really been good of keeping track of what day it was. She'd always had someone to do it for her. Whether it was Aedion, or Sam, or Chaol or—

 _Rowan._ She supposed that was another thing she was aware of. She missed Rowan very gods-damned much. The only thing that made it so that she didn't ache with the pain of missing him every hour was the thought that he probably hated her. She had known they were mates since the night in Doranelle, when she'd claimed him as her friend. Before they were even _carranam._ And she had undoubtedly hid it from him. Yes, Rowan would definitely hate her, if not for that than for the fact that he wouldn't want a mate. He had one. She could likely never live up to Lyria.

After all, from the way he described her, Lyria was an angel. Could never hurt anybody.

And Aelin had killed without a second thought. Yes, Rowan likely hated her.

That was fine. Aelin was fueled off of hate. That was certainly what had kept her alive every time Maeve brought her out again to torture her.

Aelin had dealt once with missing the love of her life, when Sam died. True, Rowan was more than just the love of her life, but if she could survive a hundred whiplashes in the course of an hour and a half, she could survive missing Rowan. Because he surely hated her.

And yet, his face was what she thought of when she started losing hope.

Which was often. Maeve inflicted the worst kinds of torture. Not even physical, after seeing how little that did to her on the beach. She would put that mask on and make her sit there, chained to the wall, as a young girl screamed. And Aelin could do nothing to stop it, no matter how Aelin begged. She didn't even know what was being done to them. But eventually, the girl always started to sound like someone she knew.

Evangeline.

Lysandra.

Nehemia.

Elide, as Lorcan struggled to hold her back on that very same beach.

Sometimes even herself, as she wailed for help. Help Aelin could not give.

She hoped that, if she died, Terrasen would at least accept her as queen. Then Lysandra could take her place. Aelin know that she could handle it. Lysandra was strong.

But Aelin was starting to doubt if she herself was strong enough. Especially as the door opened and Cairn came into her cell, smiling wickedly and holding an iron mask in his hand. Aelin could already hear the screaming.

. . .

Rowan didn't sleep. He hadn't been sleeping, except in two minute blinks every hour. Gavriel was constantly asking how he was still alive and each time, Rowan shrugged, claiming he didn't know. But he did know. Rowan was running solely on anger.

No, not anger.

Fury.

And rage.

Hatred more burning than Aelin's brightest fire.

At Maeve, for toying with his heart in the very beginning. For making him believe Lyria would always be the only one. He'd always felt a bit off with her, but never questioned it, because they were mates. They had been chosen for each other. But no, they hadn't. But mostly he hated her for taking Aelin away before they even had a chance to fight Erawan. Before he could even tell her the entirety of what he felt for her. That he had known they were mates from the night she had run from those skinwalkers and jumped from a cliff, catching herself only on a blanket of fire.

But he hated Aelin too. For not believing in looking for a different option. For giving her life up without a second thought. As if she still lived in that world where she believed no one cared if she lived or died.

Well he gods-damned cared.

And he was going to find Aelin.

He was going to bring her back.

. . .

It was earlier in the morning when Nesryn, the Winged Prince, Chaol, and his healer showed up on his ship again. They did not look hopeful.

"There is one thing we did not tell you yesterday," Nesryn said gravely. "I didn't want to tell you in front of everyone."

Rowan nodded, and started walking back toward that counsel room they'd been in yesterday.

"Wait," Nesryn said, and he turned back. "You, Lorcan, and Gavriel."

He nodded and walked off to find those two. If she wanted just them three, then it could only mean something about Maeve. Rowan's gut was roiling and squirming. He found Gavriel first, sitting pitifully outside Aedion's room.

Rowan crossed his arm and leaned against the wall, waiting for an explanation. The older, blonde male rubbed his eyes, as if thick with sleep. "You spent the night here?" Rowan asked unfeelingly.

"I tried to talk to him. Seemed like it would help, but he shut me out," Gavriel shrugged. "Guess I'm not so good at parenting."

Rowan cracked an emotionless smile. "Come with me, Nesryn says she has something else to tell us—just you, me, and Lorcan," he explained.

"So something about Maeve," he reasoned.

"Looks like it," he responded.

They were silent for a moment as they headed towards Lorcan's room. And then Gavriel asked, "Which one is Nesryn again?"

Rowan rolled his eyes and walked faster.

When they reached Lorcan's room, it appeared the same pitiful situation was going on here, except a lot more pitiful.

"Dude, your room is literally right next to hers, there is absolutely no reason you should be sleeping outside Elide's room. She probably agrees," Rowan pointed out.

"Wouldn't you be? If Aelin was here? Would it ever feel safe enough?" Lorcan snapped. Well, he obviously hadn't gotten much sleep on the floor.

Rowan pressed his lips into a fine line. "Nesryn wants to see us. Get your sorry ass up and let's go."

He was fully aware of the glances Gavriel and Lorcan exchanged behind his back but he didn't care as he stormed off toward that meeting room.

Because _of course_ nothing would ever be safe enough. Of course Rowan would be sleeping with his arms chained around her while they slept—while _she_ slept because Rowan would never trust her in a situation like that ever again. Of course when he found her he would _never_ let her out of his sight ever again. _Ever again._

But Lorcan was an idiot for saying something. He'd like to let Elide hold him down while Rowan pummeled Lorcan in the face, but it was a waste of precious time. All of this was a waste of time that he should've been looking for Aelin.

By the time Rowan reached the conference room, he had worked himself into a restless fit. So he snapped at Nesryn, "What is it," and took a seat in the corner.

Lorcan and Gavriel filed in a moment later, taking seats as far from Rowan as possible. _Smart_ , he thought.

"As you might have guessed," Nesryn said. "This is about Maeve."

"Obviously," Rowan scoffed under his breath.

Nesryn didn't hear him, but Lorcan did, with his extensive Fae senses.

"Shut the _hell_ up, Rowan! Just because your little fire-breathing _child_ queen has sacrificed herself doesn't mean there aren't other people in the world to save! Think about that! The rest of the _world,_ Rowan. So you need to pull yourself together. You got over Lyria, you can get over her."

Rowan was speechless. This _ridiculous_ male had absolutely no self pride, die he? Now was when Rowan really wanted to beat the life out of Lorcan. And he could, with this level of preexisting and new anger along with adrenaline coursing through him.

But Rowan said calmly, "Elide was right about you. And you can sleep outside her room all you like, but she'll never forgive you. Whether you did the right thing or not. She has a mind of her own and it no longer includes you."

Apparently, Lorcan had less self-control than Rowan did for he threw himself at Rowan, eyes fierce, teeth bared. Nesryn, Chaol, the healer, and Sartaq tried to pull the two apart—uselessly, he might add, as Lorcan was a very dedicated Fae male. It would've taken twice that many Fae to tear Lorcan off of Rowan at this rate.

Rowan simply laughed as Lorcan tried to rip him to shreds. "Considering what you just said about someone who is much, much more powerful than you, I think I'm in the right here. But go ahead, Lorcan, see how Elide likes you after you kill her best friend's true love?"

"Well, you just said she'll never forgive me anyway, so what's the point?" Lorcan snarled.

Just then, the door opened and Elide stormed in, followed closely by Gavriel. Rowan smirked. He'd seen him leave a few minutes ago and had just been biding his time.

"Lorcan!" she shrieked. "Cut it out!"

Lorcan did no such thing, he only pushed down harder on the collar of Rowan's shirt.

Rowan smirked again. "Hey, it's just territorial Fae bull, isn't it Lorcan?"

Then he was off him. And Elide had started telling Lorcan off. Incredible. The male had gone from extremely aggressive to the guiltiest Rowan had ever seen him. " _That_ was stupid! What could he even say that could make you that gods-damned angry?"

Lorcan gave her a look that said, _guess._

She rolled her eyes. "What has gotten into you? I say one angry thing—for a good reason—and now you're suddenly a psycho? What happened to the guy who let me limp around on an injured ankle rather than get his magic anywhere near a fragile, weak human girl?"

They all knew exactly where that guy had gone. Lorcan had finally found a girl to love. For a moment, Rowan felt truly bad for him…it was very unlikely that Elide would settle. There would come a time when he would have to live without her. That might come sooner that he wanted, going by her expression.

"You did a horrible thing. Learn to live with it. Do something with your mistakes: fix them. Maybe someday, something good will come of it," and Elide was gone again.

"Love makes people do crazy things," Rowan smirked again, but to his disappointment, Lorcan ignored him.

"Oh, please, Rowan," Gavriel rolled his eyes. "You were goading him on."

And so what if he was? Rowan had better things to do with his time.

"Okay," Nesryn said calmly, as if what had just happened had not indeed happened. Rowan felt the need to give that new girl—the healer—some credit, for she had not balked when Lorcan had launched himself at Rowan. In fact, the girl had barely blinked. She was much braver than she looked. A lot like Elide, he supposed. Rowan felt bad, then, and decided he should probably learn her name.

"I suppose I'll just say it. None of you need any cushioning for what I'm about to say," Nesryn took a deep breath, though, as if she did. "Maeve is not—as you have been led to believe—a queen of the Fae."

The room grew quiet. Rowan didn't really trust himself to speak, so Gavriel did instead. "Then what the hell is she?"

Nesryn looked down, and there was considerable pain on her face. Rowan didn't know what Maeve was yet, but if she was bad enough to make this girl he had come to know as unbreakable so hurt, then it wouldn't mean anything good for his wife.

Rowan watched as Sartaq, the Winged Prince and apparent Heir to the Khagan of Antica, reached over and squeezed Nesryn's hand. He did not let go.

And then Nesryn said, "She is a queen of the Valg."

Rowan's world dropped out from under him, and he was glad he hadn't moved from his spot on the floor so he would avoid falling to his knees for the second time in the course of less than 24 hours. Maeve, a queen of the _Valg._ Rowan didn't even know that could be a thing, but he didn't even care. He trusted Nesryn's information. Maeve was just as dangerous as a Fae Queen as she was as a Valg Queen. He would kill her either way. Aelin would just have to be a little bit stronger. He knew she was. He had faith in her. That didn't stop him from wanting to tear apart his Fae body and go shrieking into the day as his hawk form, so he wouldn't have to wait to find Aelin. He wanted her now. He did not want to be scared.

Something Aelin said long ago struck him then. The sounds in the room started coming back to him. Nesryn, explaining how she knew, because apparently Lorcan had called bull. But Rowan only had Aelin's voice in his head.

He lifted his chin. Let the fire he felt in his eyes burn straight through the wall before him. Imagined he could see through all dimensions of time and space, to wherever Maeve was keeping his _carranam_.

Rowan mouthed the words as he heard Aelin's voice saying them in his head.

 _I am Rowan Whitethorn, and I will not be afraid._

. . .

Hell no.

There was no way.

Absolutely none.

It could not be true.

But it was.

Lorcan knew it was true the second the words came out of Nesryn's mouth, but he had told her no, because he wanted anything to prove it was false.

And Lorcan didn't give a damn that he had served that queen somewhat mindlessly for over half of his life. He'd made plenty of mistakes—that was just one of the biggest. But it made Aelin's situation so _much_ more deadly. Their chance of rescuing her was already so low. And it had just gotten immeasurably lower.

But again, Lorcan only gave half a damn that Aelin was in danger. She was possibly the only one who could save them. Save _her._

No, the only reason Lorcan cared that Aelin's torture was likely worse than the worst type of hell he'd imagined was because it would break his Elide.

Not his Elide.

But it would break her. She had strength, and faith, and too much hope than the world had to give. If he told her what Maeve really was…the threat she truly posed…Elide might never be the same. Not if they didn't get Aelin back, and soon. Even then, Elide would be filled with such a raging hate that he worried she could never feel love again. (Not that he wanted that love to be directed towards him. Lorcan only cared if she was happy. But he'd never tell _her_ that.)

Lorcan debated not telling her. But, if there was even a chance she might one day trust him again, this would shatter that. So he had to tell her.

Besides, if he didn't, gods-damned Rowan would.

Lorcan shouldn't have said what he did, but the male deserved much more than what he'd given him. What Lorcan said was harsh, something—if Lorcan were in Rowan's position—he would never have let anyone get away with, but it was true.

So Lorcan walked out of the room, halfway through something Nesryn was saying, and he walked instead to Elide's room.

He knew the way by heart now. He must've walked it a thousand times. Always looking for her, always trying to protect her, he was. When he lost his unwanted devotion, his dedication, to Maeve, he latched onto someone else. Someone much purer. And lovelier. And kinder. And more stunning—

Lorcan shut himself up when he reached her door. He didn't remember knocking, but he must have, since she opened the door seconds later.

And closed it in his face.

This time he did knock, and was slightly surprised when she opened it. But also pleased—he really hadn't been in the mood to break down another one of her doors just to see if she was alright.

That's right. _Another._

"I don't want to hear it," Elide said. "What you did was stupid. What I said yesterday was true. I want you to leave me alone."

Lorcan gritted his teeth. "I really don't care if you want me to leave you alone. I won't. You'll just have to deal with it. And what I did was excessive, but justified. You would understand if you had heard it. And what you said yesterday _was_ true. I already knew that. I've been telling myself that for months. Now, would you please let me in because you really do want to hear it."

Silently, Elide stepped aside while he walked past her, and shut the door behind him. She leaned against the door as he paced, running his hands through his hair.

"I don't think I've ever heard you say 'please.'"

Lorcan rolled his eyes. "I have to tell you what was said in that room. You'll want to hear it, but you'll be upset once you know what it is," he explained, trying meekly to prepare her for the atomic bomb he was about to drop.

Elide shifted in curiosity. "I didn't think you'd tell me."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You weren't going to drill me for information?"

"I was going to drill Rowan." Lorcan supposed that was to be expected. He had to remind himself that he wasn't her protector anymore. At least, not in her mind.

He nodded. And then he told her all of it.

After the first sentence came out of his mouth, he saw her face crumble. And he caught her when she fell to her knees on the floor. He rocked her as she began to sob, even as he continued the story. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and held tightly, not letting him go. He didn't mind. He didn't want to go.

Maybe he was selfish because this was the first time she had made intentional, non-violent contact with him in months, but he did not plan to let her go for a while. Perhaps hours later, Elide's cries slowed, and she was asleep. He lifted her into the bed, but didn't fit in with her. To hold her.

He figured she wouldn't want him there anyway. He _knew_ it for a fact.

And yet he stayed. All night long. With her. His Elide.


	3. Imagine

Aelin had a plan.

She'd formulated it easily two weeks after she'd gotten to Maeve's makeshift hell, but had put it off day by day due to disgust or hope for a better plan. But there wasn't one. Her plan was horrible, but it would have to do, going by what she'd heard last night.

Maeve, confident that Aelin would never leave her company, had visited Aelin the night before and told her a little secret.

"Well, my sisters were such unsuspecting little prats. Didn't even have shields in their minds against the types of things that _I_ could do," Maeve had crooned. Her next words had nearly stopped Aelin's heart. "Of course, back then, they were closed off to the simple idea of feminism. At least, for the Valg. They didn't even know Valg females existed, let alone queens."

And with that, Maeve had told Aelin her entire life story. Up to the point where she met Aelin. That part, she already knew.

Gods. This female…was even more evil than Aelin had originally thought. This was going to make it slightly harder to escape.

Which was why Aelin had to set her horrible plan into motion.

Immediately.

That night, Aelin forced herself to stay conscious during those hours that Maeve tortured her. Honestly, the queen had made it easy for her today. She'd gotten angry that Aelin was not responding to the mental torture in the way that she wanted, and had instructed Cairn to whip Aelin again. That had made it easier for Aelin to keep her head, by focusing on the pain, instead of the screams. Eventually, when Maeve had pushed Aelin to the brink of death, she was forced to stop, and Cairn returned Aelin to her cell.

She'd seen the way her looked at her. Noticed the way he sometimes touched Aelin a little longer than he needed to. In a place he certainly was not required to touch her. Aelin was sure Maeve had considered that—Cairn surely wouldn't mind—but she would be smart to rule it out because if Aelin could survive the screams of those she loved most in the world, and reliving it every single hour, then she could survive that. But tonight…

Aelin made herself recover from the pain quicker than usual. It wasn't healthy, but Aelin felt it in her bones that now was the right time. Perhaps it was Elena or some other god, sitting on her shoulder. Aelin didn't care.

When Cairn took his eleventh round past her cell, Aelin steeled herself, and called out to him.

"Cairn," she called, doing her best to make her voice sound flirty and desperate despite the agony and revulsion rising up in her.

He looked to her, eyes livid with evil and confusion. Cairn waltzed up to the very edge of her cell, but Aelin didn't move, except to shift to show a little more of her haphazardly covered body. She didn't miss that slight twitch in his fingers, and knew what had caused it: lust.

"What is it," he demanded, attempting to make his voice firm, but falling short.

"I think," Aelin have suggested, half moaned, "that you've done enough looking at my body," she paused again, for effect, "and not enough touching."

That worked. Within seconds, Cairn was inside her cell, the door wide open. He roughly took her face in his hands, nearly crushing her jaw. "Don't think I'll fall for that, _Queen,_ " he spat the word at her, but Aelin trailed the tip of her nose over his wrist.

"No funny business," she promised (read: lied). "We both want it, Cairn. Why not get something better out of this deal Maeve forced you into?"

She saw the doubt flicker in his eyes. And saw it quickly replaced by his desperation. And over-confidence. That if she tried to escape, he'd be able to stop her. She nearly laughed.

He reached for the buckle of his pants, but Aelin whispered, "wait," and held out her hands. Maeve had them encased in solid iron, chained together. She tipped her head to the side. "What good will this do if I can't touch you? I already promised not to run."

And just for fun, she added, "Trust me. Just this once."

Begrudgingly, Cairn took the key from his belt and unclasped the cuffs. Aelin's fingers itched to burn right through his skin, but she waited. Until he had lost all control and any way to stop himself. Until she could feel him pushing against her through their clothes.

And then she struck.

Aelin took Cairn by the neck, one hand over his mouth, preventing him from screaming. His eyes widened and quickly grew angry. "You _fool,_ " she spat at him.

She should've killed him there and just left him, but for some reason, Aelin was inclined to simply incapacitate the male and drag him along with her. For some reason that had absolutely nothing to do with repaying the torture he'd so generously offered her over these months. Nothing at all.

So Aelin found a pressure point on his neck and burned it fiercely, the pain causing Cairn to black out indefinitely. She heaved him with her through the doors of that wretched cell and down the corridors to Maeve's courtroom. His weight proved her training with Rowan and Mistward very useful as she hadn't yet started to feel the burn of her muscles giving out.

But it hurt to think of Rowan so Aelin ran over her plan in her head another time.

She repeated the same incapacitation method with every patrolling guard she encountered. She wasn't worried as to why it was so easy. Aelin could easily best any male in this city, given the proper resources.

Aelin halted outside Maeve's court, unseen due to the dark of the night surrounding her. She nearly fainted at the familiar voices.

"…understand, Your Majesty, why she must not die. But I do not understand what you mean when you say there is another way."

Aelin felt like sobbing. Yes, it was Luca.

Her heart hurt for him. That sweet, young boy who knew too little to be standing in a room with Maeve, unprotected. And her heart stumbled at the words he said.

 _Another way._

Which meant that Aelin might very well be able to save the world and live to run her country. She didn't, however, let any hope infiltrate her mind. She only listened, and waited patiently.

"I mean, Luca, that she does not necessarily have to die. There is another way. Of course, that other way requires her to kill someone she loves. But I haven't told her because I have been unable to deduce if she is selfish enough to go through with that second option, if she were to get out. Which is why I have been keeping her here." Maeve.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Luca conceded.

A few moments of quiet, and then, "Is there something else?" Maeve asked, her voice bordering on dangerously irritated.

"N-no, Your Majesty. I was just wondering—why are you telling me this?" Luca asked.

"Simple, Luca," Aelin could hear the evil grin in her voice. "It is a test of your faith; a test of your loyalty. Anyone her serves in my court must pass it. I expect you will not relay this information to anyone besides yourself. Not even Emrys." So they were both alive, and relatively safe.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Luca said.

"You are dismissed."

Footsteps echoed toward Aelin. She prepared herself, and just as Luca rounded the corner, she grabbed him by the collar, dragging him toward her, stifling his startled gasp with her hand over his mouth.

Once they were a healthy distance away, she uncovered his mouth, to see him smiling ear-to-ear. "It's good to see you, Elentiya," he laughed.

She couldn't help herself. She smiled and whispered, "You too, Luca."

Aelin motioned for Luca to follow her as she ventured farther down the hallway, away from Maeve. She found a hidden nook in the wall and stopped there, letting Cairn's deadweight slump onto the floor. She looked—really looked—at Luca.

How he had changed. He was no longer a boy. He was a man. Wearing the armor of one of Maeve's cadre, but not truly part of it. He had a body built for fighting, now, not chores. And there was bravery and wisdom in his eyes, that playful ignorance long gone. Aelin found herself wishing it wasn't.

"But you're not really Elentiya, are you?" Luca whispered. When they were at Mistward, she really hadn't thought he would have the capacity to be quiet, but Aelin barely heard him when he spoke. "You're the Queen of Terrasen."

Aelin's lips twisted into a smirk. "Surprise," she said. "I need your help."

She prayed Maeve hadn't bent him to her will, that she wouldn't have to take him out. But Luca said, "Anything," almost for Aelin had finished speaking.

"Really?" She asked, untrusting.

"I trust you," he whispered. "You're the only one who can save the world. And this world certainly needs saving. So I'll do whatever I can to help, Your Majesty."

Aelin shook her head. "My subjects will call me Majesty," she chided. "But my friends call me Aelin." _Or sometimes other, viler things,_ Aelin thought, recalling Lorcan's petty nickname for her.

But Luca nodded in understanding, a grin on his face. So that boy was still in there somewhere.

"Where are Fenrys and his brother?" Aelin asked.

"You're going to take them with you?" Luca guessed. "They're up on the ground floor, two levels up. Don't go any higher than that, you'll be caught. They'll be patrolling the front entrance."

 _Perfect._ Aelin smirked again. "I'm going to need someone to carry his sorry ass, aren't I?" Aelin reminded him, jerking a chin in Cairn's direction.

Luca nodded, and so Aelin continued. "The second thing I need you to do is _get out._ It is not safe here. Maeve—she is a queen of the Valg. _Not_ the Fae. She is more dangerous than we ever thought. So get as many people as you can and get them out. Do you understand me, Luca?"

He nodded again, and turned to leave, on a mission. But Aelin grabbed his forearm and whispered, "Tell Emrys something for me. Tell him I said thank you."

And then Luca was gone.

Aelin forced herself to turn around and find the nearest stairwell. Her muscles started to flag just as she reached the second flight of stairs. She wasn't strong enough to carry such a large male body around for so long. She didn't see any other guards though—luckily—making her believe that Maeve was so confident in Fenrys and his brother that she didn't need extra reinforcement on that level.

She followed the light down each hallway. It was nighttime, but the light she saw was different from the artificial lights she'd grown used to. It was moonlight. Which meant an exit.

Aelin's knees nearly gave out when she saw the doors at the end of the hallway. And the two figures who stood just on the other side. _Was she really going to make it out?_ Aelin's senses told her no, but her heart said yes. Maeve must have had something planned for this? Or did she think Aelin couldn't take Cairn? He could easily overpower her with his body, at least with Aelin's fire trapped in iron. But she had targeted his mind. And other, less cautious parts of his body. Aelin had opted for Cairn's testosterone, not his fists. Maybe Maeve really hadn't considered that.

The doors opened easily when she pushed on them, but within seconds Cairn's body was on the ground and Aelin had a knife to her throat.

"Who are you?" Fenrys.

Aelin was so concerned with the air flooding her lungs that she momentarily forgot how to speak. But then, "Come on, Fenrys. Did you think I liked it in there?"

Then he was off her, the knife sheathed at his side. But his jaw was dangling open. "Aelin."

She nodded, and said, "It's time to go."

He only nodded once, swiftly hefting Cairn up and over his shoulder. But Aelin turned her attention to his brother. "What's your name?" she asked.

For a second, she thought he wasn't going to answer. And then he did. "Connall," he responded.

"And you're off to tell Maeve I've escaped as soon as Fenrys and I are out of sight?"

Connall didn't respond, but she saw the tiny twitch in his jaw. Anyone else would've missed it, especially in the dark.

"Because you worship your Fae queen," he didn't need to confirm that information. Fenrys had told her that long ago. "But what if I told you she wasn't Fae at all?"

Connall's eyebrows furrowed, but he said, "I wouldn't believe you."

Aelin nodded understandingly. Then she turned to where Fenrys still held Cairn. She sent one spark of fire to a spot that would wake him, but keep him paralyzed. It was essentially a pressure point for sleep paralysis. Very handy.

Indeed, Cairn came sputtering back to life, groaning at the fire that still roamed his veins. Without looking away from Connall, Aelin asked Cairn, "What is Maeve?"

He didn't respond at first. Aelin reached behind her and pressed a burning hand to his chest. Cairn cried out, and somewhere in between it, he screamed out one word.

"Valg," Fenrys repeated, sounding astonished. Aelin put Cairn back to sleep.

"Oh, you haven't heard?" Aelin said. She was having a bit of fun making Connall's face look like that. "Come on, let's go."

Neither of them protested.

. . .

Hours later, the sun had just begun to rise, and Fenrys finally handed Cairn's limp body over to Connall for a shift. Aelin led the group of three as they crossed the barren landscape. She traveled in the direction of the sea she had begun to glimpse as they walked.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Adarlan," Fenrys answered.

Aelin whirled on him. _Adarlan?_ "Why?" She asked.

"Because it's the only place Maeve believed Rowan wouldn't suspect," it was Connall who answered her second question.

A small spark of pride arose at the fact that Maeve considered her mate enough of a threat that she had moved her forces halfway across the world.

But Aelin didn't have a plan for that. She knew she'd told her court to go back to Terrasen and settle there, but would they have listened. She knew neither Aedion nor Rowan would have been very happy with _that_ idea. To be honest, Aelin didn't have any ounce of a plan beyond getting out of that prison. She had no idea what to do.

Aelin took a moment to look around, and when she did, she started to recognize the land around her. It was in ruins, but…

"Holy gods," she murmured. "I know exactly where we are."

"Where, then?" Connall asked impatiently. He obviously didn't trust her yet.

Aelin bit her lip. "If we were to travel about five miles east," she took a deep breath. "We would be in Endovier Salt Mines."

"Or what's left of it."

. . .

Rowan was halfway through dinner when he felt a wave of self-directed disgust rack his body. Enough to combat what he'd felt when Aelin had recounted all she'd gone through in her life, back at Mistward. But nothing that repulsive was happening around Rowan.

He couldn't comprehend why he'd felt it…

When he finally realized, a string of incredibly nasty curses sprung from his mouth. He dropped his fork and stood from his chair, staring absently at the far wall, his mouth forming a shocked "o".

Gavriel, who was sitting next to him, looked up at Rowan in confusion. "What is it?"

"If…if Aelin were to feel a really strong emotion, is there a chance I could feel it too?" Gavriel looked lost, so Rowan added. "Through our _carranam_ bond?"

He took a moment to contemplate. Then Gavriel said, "It's possible, but you'd have to be relatively close to her."

Hope sprung up in Rowan's chest, which he effectively squashed as he pointed out, "But we've been here for days, and I haven't felt anything. Would Maeve move her?"

"Doubtful," Gavriel said, and Rowan knew it was true. "That sounds awfully unlike Maeve."

Rowan nodded, and sat back down, defeated.

"Of course, the other option is that…" he trailed off. "I mean sometimes a pair of m…" Again, Gavriel didn't finish the thought. But then he stood and released a group of curses similar to the one Rowan had just said. "Holy _gods._ "

"What is it?" Rowan demanded, but Gavriel had started to walk away—toward Aedion's table in the small mess hall on their ship. "Gavriel, tell me now! What is it?" He knew he sounded like a disgruntled toddler whining about a toy, but he didn't care.

"Aedion," Gavriel said grimly when he reached him. His son looked up at him with no small amount of anger in his eyes. It was safe to say Aedion still hadn't exactly warmed up to his father. "I need to speak to you."

Gavriel directed his next words at Rowan. "Just the two of us."

Aedion eyed the two of them warily for a second, then nodded, leading his father somewhere private. Rowan attempted to follow, but Lorcan suddenly appeared, stopping him short. Rage rose up in Rowan's throat and he bared his teeth, but Lorcan only said, "They'll tell you later. Now sit the hell down and finish eating."

. . .

Aedion didn't care that his father was a roguish idiot

Not when he said those eight words that nearly stopped Aedion's heart in his chest.

"I think I know how to find Aelin."

Aedion had stumbled backwards into a sitting position on his bed, and Gavriel lowered to his knees to look Aedion in the eye as he continued. "It's about Rowan. But I'm not entirely sure yet, so you have to let me finish before you go off gallivanting like we've already won," Gavriel warned.

Aedion would never act such a way in a situation like this, but he could only nod.

"A few minutes ago, Rowan asked if Aelin felt a strong enough emotion, would he be able to feel it too, through their _carranam_ bond," Gavriel explained. "I said it was possible, but only if they were close together. But we've been here for days; he would've felt something before this. So it's not that. But…I've heard that sometimes…"

"Just say it," Aedion commanded his father.

"I think that Aelin and Rowan are mates."

 _That_ took an effect on Aedion. "That's impossible!" he shouted. "Rowan's already had a mate! There's no way!"

"Don't you remember what I told you? About what Maeve said?" Gavriel countered. "How she had been messing with the mating bond the whole time? That is was never actually real."

Aedion shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "I—I don't understand how this is going to help us find Aelin," he stumbled.

Gavriel nodded. "Well, I've heard that sometimes, mates with a strong enough bond can communicate with each other through that bond. Maybe, if I'm right, and we can get Rowan to try to contact her…"

Aedion finished for his father, "Aelin can tell us where she is."


	4. Stay With Me

Aelin considered the fact that her heart might very well give out. It had nearly stopped many times in the last few months. But she felt especially unbalanced when she caught sight of a mighty bird flying swiftly in her direction.

Yesterday, Fenrys and Connall had followed Aelin in the opposite direction of Endovier, toward the water. She'd decided that they would find a ship to commandeer and then they would make their way to Terrasen. She felt her strength returning full-force and realized that there must have been extensive amounts of iron put into the very walls of that jail she'd been kept in. Fenrys confirmed her suspicions when he said he finally had enough power to teleport them a few good miles closer to the shore.

They'd almost made it to the shore, the sails of ships just beginning to peek out over the horizon, when that bird came soaring into view.

She wanted to fall to her knees. She saw its color—white. She could tell that it was indeed a hawk. The purpose with which it was flying was far too determined for it to be a simple bird. Its eyes were definitely fixed on her. It was so familiar.

But it was not her hawk.

Fenrys barked a curse and looked around for anywhere he could drag them to hide. But that sea hawk had already seen them. That's when it dawned on Aelin. The last member of Maeve's cadre took the form of an osprey. Oh, hell.

The bird came four feet above the ground when a flash of light resounded and suddenly there was a man walking toward them. Fenrys and Connall both tensed behind Aelin, but she stood tall, her signature smirk on her face.

The man, young with ragged red hair overflowing his head, didn't smile back. "I've been sent here to kill Aelin Galathynius," he said in a grim voice, and Aelin was sure the look in her eyes commanded him to try. She wasn't really inclined to kill the man, but she knew he was forced to do whatever Maeve said under the magic of their oath. Neither of them would have a choice.

"However, I've never met Aelin Galathynius. I've no idea what she looks like. Therefore, I cannot kill her if I don't have positive identification," he said.

Fenrys and Connall both released their breath. Connall stepped forward to hug the man, both clapping each other on the back. Then he turned around and smiled at Aelin, the first emotion besides distrust she had seen him wear.

"Vaughan is very good at coming up with stretched excuses as to why he must disobey Maeve's orders," Connall explained.

Vaughan laughed, and added, "The only reason she sent me was because everyone else in the cadre has either been released from the bond, been kidnapped, or willingly left."

Fenrys laughed as well, and moved forward to embrace Vaughan. "Good to see you're on our side," Fenrys said, and Vaughan nodded.

"One thing," Aelin said. "You have met me. When those Valg princes attacked Mistward and Rowan called for help. You saw me fighting with one of them and ran right past. Rowan was—pretty angry, if I recall."

It was stupid of Aelin to point this out, but she still didn't trust him. She barely even trusted Fenrys.

"Yes, I did see you," Vaughan said, and stepped forward to shake her hand. "So it's nice to see you again, Elentiya. You are a very brave demi-Fae, to fight those princes. Apologies I couldn't have offered any support that day."

Aelin smirked and nodded. He really was good at this. "Then I assume you'll be coming with us. Then we've got to hurry," she looked each of them in the eye. "I have a world to save and a court to find."

When the four of them turned back and kept walking toward the sea, Vaughan, Connall, and Fenrys all making jokes and forgetting what darkness lie ahead, Aelin shoved her disappointment deep into her gut. She made a vow to herself that she would not speak the name of her prince again until she could look him in the eye and say it, followed by the words, "I'm sorry."

. . .

It was almost too easy to find a ship in good condition. Easier, even, to take it. Within two hours, they were almost past Bellhaven. Normally they wouldn't have even made it to the Eyllwe border, but Connall had the convenient give to make the sea bend to his will. And he made it move them faster. Eventually, his power would deplete and they would simply have to go slow, but not yet.

"So," Aelin said to Vaughan, once they got a minute alone. Connall and Fenrys were off somewhere talking while the former took his turn guarding the locked room that held Cairn. "What makes you special? How can you help us?"

"Well," He said, leaning over the railing and staring out, as if he could see the land. "According to Maeve and everyone I know, all I can do is kill effectively."

Aelin knew of it: the killing power, it was called. She nodded, but Vaughan continued.

"But that's not really true," she turned to him, intrigued, her silence telling him to go on. "I can break or reverse any spell, oath, hex, or bond that exists."

Now _that_ could be useful.

"In fact, Fenrys, Connall, and I have been free of the bond for a hundred years now," Vaughan said. "But I hadn't told them because it was too dangerous. But I think I can now."

"I think you should," Aelin said, and Vaughan nodded, starting off in the direction of Cairn's makeshift cell. "Wait—will you do me one favor?"

"Anything."

. . .

Elide had indeed kicked Lorcan out of her room as soon as she woke. The things he'd told her last night, however…She didn't blame herself for needing someone to hold her. And there was no one else she fit so nicely into.

She knew Lorcan probably hated himself. He'd said so the other night, when he'd come to tell her what had been said in that room. But that was no excuse. Aelin had been gone for five months, and it was all his fault. He'd summoned Maeve.

Every time, he would tell her that he'd done it for her. To keep Elide safe. But what he didn't seem to understand was that she didn't care about herself. Elide recalled the first time they'd gone through this fight.

"How dare you? You summoned that horrible queen knowing full well what she would do to Aelin. Our _only_ chance at surviving this gods-damned war! All so you could please Maeve. And look where that got you." Elide had screamed at him. For a while, Lorcan had taken it. Accepting the hatefulness with his head bowed in shame.

But when Elide said this, he snapped. She knew he wasn't going to hurt her, but Lorcan looked mad enough in that moment that he likely could have punched a hole in that iron sarcophagus. "I was not thinking a bit about me, Elide. I did it all for you. To keep you safe," he fought.

"Don't you get it?" Elide had retorted angrily. "I don't care about my safety! I care about hers! Only!"

Lorcan had her pinned against the wall in seconds. He hadn't done it forcefully, so it didn't hurt, but their closeness had made it so very hard for Elide to hate him in that moment.

"I knew that she would torture Aelin and force her to watch. And maybe I was selfish because I knew that when Maeve found us without my summons, she would have done it instead to you. And maybe you don't care if you're heart, but _I do._ Elide, _I do._ Because what I said that night was true: I'm falling in love with you. I was born out of darkness and I thought it would stay that way forever, but when you came into my life, and you took care of yourself, I realized that I could see light. And it didn't hurt. I knew Maeve would break the bond, and do it dishonorably. I knew you wouldn't want me if I became a dishonored male but I didn't care because it meant you would be safe. And now you don't want me because you hate me for what happened to Rowan and I can live with that too. As long. As you. Are safe.

"I knew when you lit up my world, no matter how much I tried not to want it, that you would become the only thing I cared about. And you can push me away all you want but that won't stop just because you hate me. I've been hated before. It doesn't change anything. But I love you and I want you to be happy and if that means finding Aelin and bringing her back than I'll do it. As soon as gods-damned Rowan gets himself together and comes up with a plan, I swear on my love for you that I'll be by his side. You'll see, Elide. Hate me all you want, but you'll see."

And then he'd left.

Elide was so astonished. Everything he had said…it had made her want to throw her arms around him and never let go. But she forced herself not to. She wouldn't forgive him. Couldn't forgive him. Not yet.

She remembered, though, being so surprised that he'd called her Aelin, and not some colorfully strung together line of curses made to sound like a queen's title. Aelin.

But either way, Elide had kicked him out the next morning. She'd wanted him there, but all it took was to remember the first time Aelin screamed, after countless whiplashes, as the look in her eye—the self-disappointment—when it had happened, for Elide to set Lorcan out on his ass.

But now…

Elide was standing on the deck watching a storm roll in, when she had heard him scream.

Despite her best self-preventative efforts, Elide was by his side in seconds. As were most of the people on the boat. The rest were crowded around Gavriel, who appeared to be experiencing the same thing.

Lorcan had his eyes clenched shut, his teeth heavily gritted as he tried to keep another scream from escaping. Elide pushed to his side. He had his hands clamped by his sides, but she took one of his hands and held it. Once he felt her hand in his, he opened his eyes in shock.

"Just breathe," she said.

Lorcan managed a pained nod and didn't look away. He stared at her while Yrene—the Torre healer—came to his side and tried to see what was wrong.

"What is it?" Elide asked as Yrene laid her hands on Lorcan's chest and closed her eyes.

But she shook her head.

"I can't see anything," Yrene said, apologies in her eyes.

Elide nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. He would just have to wait it out. Elide looked back to Lorcan, who was still staring at her. "Squeeze my hand," she told him.

Despite the pain, Lorcan croaked a dull laugh. "I'll—break your—f-fingers," he groaned.

"I've dealt with pain, before, Lorcan. I can handle it. It'll help, I promise. Besides, Yrene can just heal me if you really do," Elide countered.

But Lorcan shook his head. "I've already—gone out of m-my—way—to make sure I—didn't h-hurt you, Elide," he said. "It would b-be a waste—to ruin that—n-now."

Elide shook her head but gave in. She settled instead for running her fingers through his hair. It was probably useless, but that was what her father had always done, whenever Elide used to skin her knee after falling while playing with Aedion or Ren. But Lorcan closed his eyes for a second as he writhed in agony, before settling his eyes on hers again.

Elide whispered to him while he fought the pain. Saying things that didn't matter, wouldn't help him. Every once in a while his eyes would widen a fraction or a smile would show up for just a moment on his lips. But soon enough, it seemed to slow. His body relaxed, only twitching every once in a while. The whole time, Lorcan never took his eyes off of Elide. When he had stopped convulsing enough that Rowan said they could be moved back into their rooms, Lorcan squeezed Elide's hand and whispered—begged, really-, "Will you stay with me? Please?"

The way his voice sounded…the pain in that that was no longer physical, but purely emotional…Elide couldn't help but nod.

And Lorcan passed out.

. . .

Lorcan didn't think Elide had heard herself say it.

But he had. When she'd been whispering nothings in his ear as that horrible pain had coursed through his body, wave after wave, she'd said it.

 _I love you._

Between the _it's okay_ 's and the _it'll end soon_ 's and his ultimate favorite, the _squeeze my hand_ 's, she had told him she loved him. But he didn't think she had known that she'd said it. And he should've told her, but he wanted to keep it to himself. Because he knew that as soon as he told her what she'd said, she would deny it. He wanted to believe it was true for just a little longer. And then he would tell her.

He _would._

It was miracle enough that Elide had agreed to stay with him after that painful ordeal. He woke to see her staring at him from the end of his bed. He shifted his legs so she would have more room.

"What the hell just happened?" she asked.

Lorcan rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up. He failed. "I think…I think that somehow…I was made honorable again," he said.

Elide narrowed her eyes. "I don't understand," she said.

"Well, when Maeve broke the blood oath, it didn't just make me a dishonorable male. It took so much of my power. The only magic I've been able to perform these last few months is the one that braces your ankle, and even that takes a lot of my power away. But it feels…like that decision has been reversed."

Indeed, the power that was running through his veins now was alien, yet so familiar. It was like he'd regained what magic he'd lost.

"I didn't know that was possible," Elide said.

Lorcan found it very aggravating that he could not read her expression at the moment. Couldn't tell if she was going to be as cold and cut off to him as she had been, or as kind as she was when he'd been on the deck screaming.

"I'd heard tales of a few men who could break spells like that, but I didn't know they were real," Lorcan told her. "I suppose they were."

Elide nodded thoughtfully. "Congratulations. You got what you wanted. Now you don't have to go find Aelin. You're honorable again."

Cold and detached, then.

"Sorry, Elide, but have you not been listening? This whole time?" Lorcan asked, finally gaining enough strength to push himself into a sitting position. "I don't care if I'm honorable or dishonorable or human or gods-damned ilken. I will find Aelin because if there is even a slim chance you might save me, then I'll take it.

"Judging by the look on your face, there isn't a chance, and I've told you before that's fine. It's not going to change anything. Now, Elide, could you please find someone to help me walk to Gavriel's room?"

Pressing her lips into a thin, angry line, Elide grabbed Lorcan under the shoulder. He didn't like the idea of her helping him—he could easily crush her—but he wasn't about to tell her that. He took as much weight off her as he could, but Elide still grunted as she helped him limp to the door, and down the hallway.

By the time he reached Gavriel's room, he was panting.

When he walked in, he saw that Yrene was bent over Gavriel's body, her hands on his back, her healing magic taking away any resounding pain.

"What on earth-," Yrene gasped, removing her hands from Gavriel's back. "You should not be walking! You should not even be standing!" She chided, then she pointed to a chair, in which Lorcan gratefully leaned against. He instead motioned for Elide, who was in worse shape than he was, to sit.

"Are you kidding me?" Elide panted.

"We both know you're about to fall over—now sit," Lorcan demanded.

Elide gritted her teeth, but sat in the chair. "Why are you so gods-damned stubborn?" she mumbled.

"The word is persistent," he told her.

Yrene did not look pleased, but she returned to healing Gavriel.

"Did you figure out what happened?" Gavriel asked. "I mean, I assume that's why you're here, Lorcan."

"Yeah," Lorcan confirmed. "Remember those tales we used to hear about a man who could break or reverse any and all spells?" Gavriel nodded. "I think that somehow, we were made honorable again."

Gavriel sat up, waving Yrene over to Lorcan. She gratefully began on his back. "That would explain why I feel like my magic has been doubled," Gavriel agreed.

"I don't get it, though," Elide said. "Why didn't anything happen to Rowan?"

Rowan, who had suddenly showed up in the doorway, answered before Lorcan could. "Because I'm still honorable. Aelin threatened to burn down Doranelle to get Maeve to release me from the oath without taking any of my magic," the corners of Rowan's lips twitched at the memory, but grief filled his eyes.

"Why, then?" Gavriel asked no one in particular. "Why free us from that?"

"Well, who do we always think of whenever something mysteriously good happens with absolutely no prior warning?" Lorcan asked.

Elide perked up. "You think Aelin is up to something?" Deadly hope sparkled in her eyes.

It was Rowan who answered, "Yes. And I think it's our cue to get moving."


	5. I Will Wait

**Hi! This chapter, I apologize, will be a little short, but I have an idea of how I want to end it and there's really nothing I can add in between. I'm about to give you one happy ending, just cause I love ya, but you'll have to wait for the other, like, 5,000.**

"I know a way to get in contact with her," Gavriel said.

When he said that, Rowan nearly fainted. But he kept himself composed enough to listen to what Gavriel had to say.

"When you said that you felt strong emotions through your bond with Aelin, I got an idea. I think you can send short bursts of communication to each other."

"Absolutely," Rowan said immediately. "How do I do it?"

"We don't really know," Gavriel said, wincing.

Rowan took a deep breath to calm away the growl rising in his throat. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Rowan, no one on this boat has a _carranam_. You're just going to have to look inside yourself and find the way," That answer was not good enough for Rowan, but he could see in Gavriel's face that he wished he could help more.

So Rowan sat on the edge of the bed and he closed his eyes, venturing inside himself for the answer.

. . .

It had been a whole day, and Rowan had made absolutely no progress. He felt ready to pummel someone's head into a wall. He nearly did when Gavriel suggested he go out onto the deck and get some fresh air.

But he went. He sat on the deck under the stars and he tried again. He thought of Aelin, and how badly he wanted her back. Every time he got close enough that he could feel her humming on the other side of some mental wall, however, he would get yanked back out. Every time that happened, Rowan wanted to simply jump off this boat and fly away to look for her himself.

He calmed himself by thinking of what he was going to say to her. It would have to be short. He tried to think of what was necessary. He knew she was alive, because he could feel her. He knew she was hurting, because he could feel that too. And he knew he'd only be able to send her a message of four words or less.

Rowan knew he should be asking her where she was. But he couldn't bring himself to. He knew that Aelin was physically hurting. But mentally, he couldn't tell.

When Rowan looked back up to the sky, he remembered that somewhere, she was probably looking at those same stars. If she had made it out like he couldn't stop himself from believing she had. That was how he knew. When he suddenly figured out where to go; how to see his wife again.

And when he saw her, though he felt like sobbing right then, he knew time was limited. And he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

. . .

Elide had helped Lorcan get back to his room after Rowan started getting into a dangerous mood. If he was being honest, Lorcan probably could have made it himself. But when she put her hands on him, he couldn't tell her to take them off. It felt too familiar, too real, too wonderful.

He was surprised when she stayed, even then. When she didn't go back to her own room to sleep. When he nearly fell back into his bed, she came with him. He knew that she had been through a lot today, emotionally and physically. He felt so scared to move, to scare her off somehow, especially when she nestled into his side under the blankets and rested her head on the crook of his shoulder.

When she had started running her fingers through his hair…it might have been the only reason he'd stayed alive through that pain. It kept bringing him back to the first time he'd kissed her, and the way she'd tangled her hands in his dark, long hair. That was the memory he referred to every time the pain got to be too much. How badly he wanted to kiss her again…he almost didn't care if she stabbed him for it.

But he refrained. For now.

"When Rowan finds out where Aelin is, I want to go," Elide said. And Lorcan was momentarily speechless. She must've taken it for acceptance, because Elide continued, "Yrene can heal my ankle so I'll be more effective in battle."

"You will not be in any _battles,_ Elide," Lorcan said. "Absolutely not. After everything I've said about trying to keep you safe? This is just cruel."

Elide tore herself from his arms. "You don't get a say in what I do," she sighed. "Gods, I knew you would be so hard to deal with about this."

"So is that the only reason you let me touch you? To soften me up?" Lorcan shook his head. "You don't get it, Elide. I _need you alive._ I love you and I think we might be-," he stopped himself.

Elide didn't notice it. "I know that! Look, Lorcan, earlier you said that if there was any chance to get me back, you would take it. Well, there is a chance, Lorcan. This is it."

Lorcan took a deep breath. Dammit. He was already convinced—just like that. "Fine," he said, and Elide came back to his side. "But I have to tell you something else."

He closed his eyes and plowed on, trying not to hear the words as the came out of his mouth. "I don't think you heard yourself; the things you whispered to me when the change occurred. But you told me—you told me that you loved me."

She was quiet, and just because he hated the silence, Lorcan added, "Multiple times."

He couldn't look her in the eye. Couldn't look at her at all. But then she moved.

Lorcan, leaning against the pillows at his back, braced Elide's hips as she sat in his lap, straddling his legs. She tilted his chin so he looked into her eyes, then placed a kiss on his forehead.

"I guess I should probably tell you know," Elide whispered to him tenderly. He couldn't read the look on her face, but it wasn't fiery rage, for once. "You did a really bad thing, Lorcan. You betrayed my trust. You sent Aelin—our only savior—to her possible death. You held me back so I couldn't go to her when she needed me most. It's going to take me a long time to forgive you for that."

Lorcan tried, so very hard, not to let his eyes break from hers. He wouldn't be able to have Elide, but he still had his pride.

"But, no matter how much I want that to, it doesn't stop me from feeling what I was already feeling for you before all this mess happened. When you protect me, even when it's going to end so badly for you, I fall in love with you more. When you pledge to find Aelin, even if it takes your life, I fall more in love with you. When you accept the distance I've forced you to keep, and you take the harsh words I throw your way—the words you don't really deserve—I fall more in love with you. And I try to think that I hate myself for it, but I don't. I think I'm really lucky to have fallen in love with you."

Against his will, Lorcan dropped his head. He buried it in her neck. The relief was…unimaginable. But he didn't quite believe it.

"Like I said, it might take me a while to forgive all of it, but in time I will. If you'll just be patient with me-,"

"I will do anything for you," Lorcan cut her off, sitting back to her could look her in the eye again. And even in the darkness of twilight, he could see her perfectly.

He loved her _so much._ He loved her from her eyes to her earlobes, from her heart to her belly button, from her middle toe the feet that had carried her through so much despair, a thing she would never, ever deserve.

Elide started crying, as if she heard him. And maybe he'd said it out loud. He was glad. He leaned forward slowly and kissed away her tears, one by one.

"I'm scared, Elide," he whispered against her skin. "I'm scared that this is all another one of Maeve's tricks and wake up chained to her once more. I'm afraid you'll be taken from me. I'm afraid you won't want me when you wake up tomorrow. Because I love you so much, Elide, but I don't deserve you. I don't deserve your hope or your light or your strength or your love. I deserve so much worse and yet I've been blessed just by knowing you. But I'm scared you'll realize someday how I am not enough."

It hurt to admit it. But If anyone was going to hear it, it should be her. She was crying again, and he continued to kiss away her tears, even as she spoke again.

"I think you're wrong. I think you deserve an angel. I don't know how to make you see what a good male you are, Lorcan Salvaterre, but I will find out someday, in whatever time we have left." Now Lorcan's skin was wet with tears, and she bent to kiss them away, with the same feather-light touches he'd given her. "I don't care if you're honorable or dishonorable or human or gods-damned ilken, I'll love you either way."

That's when Lorcan lost his ability to speak. But there was so much more he wanted to say. So much she didn't understand about his love for her, but Elide nodded. She understood. Of course she did.

He leaned forward at the same time she did, their lips meeting in a desperate reach. He couldn't explain the kind of happiness he felt. A thing he had never felt before.

It was so much better than their first kiss. She was so soft and fit so flawlessly against him. He pulled her somehow closer and she loosed a groan when she felt him underneath her. And away went Lorcan's self-control.

The kissing grew less soft and more dominant, his tongue exploring her mouth and his hands exploring her body. He pushed his wind to snap a lock shut on the door. Lorcan forced himself to pull away, Elide whining a murmured protest.

"Are you sure?" he asked her. He didn't want to hurt her. He would hate himself. "If you want to stop, now is the time," he warned her.

Elide shook her head. "I trust you, Lorcan. I love you. I want you. I'm sure," she whispered.

Lorcan smirked as he leaned in to kiss her again, hearing the audible _click_ as a shield of soundproof air clicked into place around them.

. . .

The next day, Aedion was waiting with Dorian on the deck of the ship. Rowan had been rushing around to tell everyone to get up, that he had something important to tell them all. Aedion was close to being over it.

Dorian, however, was barely concealing his pride at what he'd undoubtedly been doing last night.

"Another night with Manon, Your Majesty?" Aedion asked, leaning back to the sun warmed his face.

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Jealous, General?" he teased. "And might I ask what you were doing last night? Brooding about Lysandra?"

"Well, how am I supposed to make any progress with her when she looks like my cousin who is currently being tortured by a Valg queen?" Aedion snapped.

Dorian dipped his head in apology at the joke. But he asked, "What do you need her to do? Say sorry?"

Aedion looked over at him. "I just want Aelin back."

He knew that Dorian's question was referring to his relationship with Lysandra, but in Aedion's mind, he didn't have one.

Just then, a growl rang out through the crowd. Lorcan had scared some poor servant away. Aedion was confused as to why until he saw where Lorcan had Elide's hand in his own.

Aedion cursed and when Dorian looked at him confusedly, he asked, "Do you remember that night in Skull's Bay? After the battle where Deanna took over Aelin's body?"

Dorian nodded. "Yeah, with Rowan and the territorialism…"

Aedion didn't turn to Dorian, but his voice was firm as he said, "It seems that it's Lorcan's turn."

He nodded and looked away, trying to stay still and look unsuspicious. Rowan came to Gavriel's side at the head of the crowd. He didn't even look to where Elide was whispering something soothing in Lorcan's ear on the other side of the deck.

With Aedion's Fae hearing, he caught the words Rowan exchanged with Gavriel.

"I swear, Rowan, if you try anything with him today…" Gavriel warned.

Rowan eyed the male, and said, "I won't."

Then to the crowd, Rowan said, "I happy to say we're finally going to get moving," he paused, letting the whispers die down, and then one of Rowan's signature smirks appeared as he said, "It's time to go get our queen."

Cheers erupted, and Aedion tried not to laugh at Elide's face when Lorcan pushed her behind them.

. . .

"Oh, gods," Lorcan said as she shut their door behind them. Elide felt his tense muscles relax, only fractionally, in the safety of their room.

He looked at her, guilt in his eyes. "I'm really sorry, Elide. I'm trying to reign it in, it's just…so hard…"

She moved to sit in his lap, relishing in the feeling of his hands bracing her waist. "It's okay," she whispered, and meant it. "I understand. I'm not mad at you; I know you're doing your best."

She was entranced in his gaze as he nodded. She watched as his eyes fell, latching onto her chest, and Elide started to remember what they'd done last night—

"Oh, gods," she said, echoing him as she leaped away and started pacing.

"Don't pace," he said, teasingly. "You'll tip the boat over."

She glared at him. "I can't even keep my head clear."

Lorcan took her by the wrist, dragging her closer to him. "It's natural," he whispered, smirking, and the two of them tumbled back into the bed.

Elide just let go.

. . .

Fenrys had cried when Vaughan had told him and Connall that they'd been free of Maeve for years. And then he'd embraced him. They both had.

Aelin was happy. She wondered how Lorcan and Gavriel were faring with their rediscovered honor. Vaughan had warned it would be incredibly painful for them, but nothing they couldn't survive.

She was on night watch that day. Connall's power was running low and they started to slow as they turned to begin passing the southern continent. She wondered if Chaol was still there. She would find out soon enough, when they passed Antica's harbor. If they had all their ships, either he hadn't and she would go to see him, or he had failed in getting them to join the cause. There was also the possibility that all the ships would be gone, meaning Chaol had been successful. Aelin had faith in Chaol; she had faith in the last option.

Aelin stumbled back as something came careening into her—from her _mind._ She heard words. They were quiet, weak words, but the voice that said them was all too familiar. He wasn't here, but she could somehow hear him in her mind. As if they were somehow connected. But they were still so far apart that he couldn't get a large message through.

But she knew exactly what he'd been trying to say.

 _Remember, Fireheart?_


	6. New Rules

Aelin had cried for an hour on the deck of that ship under the stars. He had found a way to talk to her through their mating bond. Whether her knew if that's what it was had been unclear, but she knew she message. She knew how to send one back.

She was forced to rally all her power. They must have been so far—too far—apart if it took this much. But she managed to send three words back to him.

 _To whatever end._

When he said, _Remember, Fireheart?_ she had known what he'd been asking. Rowan likely knew she was alive, if he could feel her on the other side of the bond. He knew Maeve had been screwing with her body, putting a whole bunch of new scars anywhere she wanted. What he wanted to know was if Maeve had damaged Aelin's mind. Her mind.

She hadn't. No, Maeve hadn't wanted Aelin to forget any of it. That would've been too easy. Instead she forced her to remember their faces. To remember her own failures.

And the Fireheart…it had been a way of saying that he loved her. That he was still waiting, looking, hurting for her. It nearly broke her. This male Aelin had…he was far too amazing for the schemer, cheater, liar, and secret-keeper that Aelin was.

And yet, he knew all these things, and he still wanted her. Rowan saw Aelin for what she was and he did not balk. He was not afraid. And if Rowan was not afraid, then neither would she be.

That morning was the first one in a long time that Aelin returned to her ritual. But she changed one thing. Because Aelin was no longer Celaena. In fact, Celaena was long dead. But Aelin…

"I am Aelin Galathynius," she'd said with confidence. "And I will not be afraid."

A sneering, skittering, familiar laugh snaked its way around the corner. Aelin did not want to turn around, but she would not let her back turn on this evil.

"You should be," Maeve sneered.

. . .

Rowan's heart had soared. He'd sent those two words to her, trying to crush any hope that she might answer. He wouldn't be let down. Not this time.

But Aelin _did_ answer.

And when he heard her beautiful voice, the words she said…

Rowan fell to his knees for the third time that week.

 _To whatever end,_ she had sent him. She remembered. Aelin's mind hadn't been touched. Or at least, not her memory.

It didn't take him as much energy this time, with the adrenaline and hope that was flitting through his veins. He asked her, _where are you_? And he waited for her to reply. He hoped that his sense of urgency could be heard.

It took all day for her to respond. Every moment, worry boiled deeper in his mind. He _had_ heard her say something back. _She was alive._ He had to keep reminding himself that, until finally, Aelin's message came through.

But it wasn't very helpful.

 _Earth or vade._

That was her message. Rowan wanted to strangle himself. He had no idea what that meant. The last word was latin, _vade,_ it meant go. But "Earth or go" made even less sense than if he left it untranslated.

And then it struck him. Aelin was fluent in only Latin and English. Maybe he was supposed to translate the last word to Latin, and the first two to English. Indeed, when he did that, it read "Terre uel go."

Which made no sense.

It took Rowan another few hours before he finally understood. She would have translated it through the old language. That would make it harder to translate if someone was somehow able to intercept the messages. And when he did that…

 _Terra Sen go._

Otherwise read as "Go to Terrasen."

Gods. It was a good thing there where translation dictionaries on this boat because she had gravely overestimated his latin skills.

It wasn't the question he'd asked. Rowan had wanted to know where exactly she was at that exact moment, not where she'd already told him she wanted them to go. But he trusted her. He could only pray she wasn't trying to sacrifice herself again. He thought she would know better than that, to at least come back to him before she died. He would never let that happen.

. . .

An impressive amount of dread curled in Aelin's stomach. Fenrys and Connall were both bleeding badly. Vaughan held Connall by the collar, his face emotionless. Cairn—oh gods—held Fenrys.

Maeve struck an evil-looking smile. "Good to see you again, _Fireheart_ ," Maeve sneered. "You didn't really think I would've let you get away, did you?"

Aelin felt the boat speed up just a fraction and resisted the urge to laugh. She did, however, smirk. "Don't try to make it seem like you had this planned," Maeve didn't respond to that. Aelin flicked her eyes over to Cairn and laughed humorlessly. "You should teach your dog here to think with his brain instead of his manhood, next time."

Cairn loosed a growl, but at Maeve's cue, he silenced. A dog, indeed.

"What difference does it make? I knew that once you left the prison, you'd be able to contact Rowan through the bond. I will say, I thought you would make the first move," Maeve announced, picking at her perfectly filed nails. "But it didn't matter. It still led me to you."

Aelin knew Maeve wanted to ask, relished in the feeling of knowing something Aelin didn't. And Aelin did indeed hate it, but she leaned back, crossed her arms over her chest, and asked, "How?"

Maeve smiled. "It is so valuable, being a Valg queen. The higher up in the kingdom were gifted with the gifts of a daemati. Enough so that I let a bit of my power latch onto that precious mating bond between you," she paused, mouth hanging open, "and let it alert me when the bond was used.

"Honestly, you should have noticed. Though I suppose you haven't really experienced the mating process. Rowan should've known, but then again, he doesn't know you're communicating through the mating bond. He thinks it's all through your _carranam_ bond." Maeve then made a noise that was the exact definition of an evil laugh. "Little does he know that's impossible.

"That little piece of power has the convenient effect of making communications so much harder to send and receive. It shouldn't be so difficult for you two to speak to each other."

Just then, the message from Rowan came through. Indeed, it was foggier, slower than it had been the first time. Maeve smiled as she felt the message be received. She read it, and gave Aelin a look that said, _Go ahead and respond._

Aelin did. She made it count.

Maeve was not tricked by the coding. She laughed again. "Smart move. Someone will need to be running your country while you get back in your coffin." Maeve snapped her fingers and that very coffin appeared just in front of Aelin, mask and all. She didn't miss Cairn's pleased expression.

By now, the boat had reached its full speed. Maeve had been so focused on Aelin that she hadn't even noticed the small cliff of the southern continent they were now careening towards. Still, she did not notice.

"There is one thing you've forgotten, Maeve," Aelin smirked.

"Oh?" Aelin knew that Maeve hated that she had to ask.

Aelin nodded. "Last time we went through this, I was weak and in pain, had no allies or help, and was experiencing some mild self-hatred."

"And now?" Maeve asked.

Aelin watched Connall's eyes widen. He was warning her. They were getting very close to that massive wall of rock.

"Now, I am strong. I have three strong allies, and more waiting for me. I have a plan. I've gotten smarter. Also," Aelin said, watching Maeve's face grow red with anger. "I intend to run my own country, thank you very much."

Aelin had timed it perfectly. They had one minute, seconds maybe, before their ship would crash into the cliff. And only when Aelin lunged at Fenrys and Connall did Maeve finally realize. Vaughan did not let go of Connall. Fenrys grabbed Aelin's hand and his brother's as he rallied his power. Aelin knocked Cairn unconscious once more and she made sure he was still touching Fenrys when all of them teleported off that boat and to the shore closest it.

They didn't waste any time. Fenrys had gotten them as far as they could away from Maeve, but Aelin still heard her scream of frustration as she crashed into the rock. The four of them started sprinting, Connall hauling Cairn's limp body along with him.

They ran as fast as they could and didn't stop. Not until Aelin saw the massive form of the Torre spring into view. A memory came to mind: _the world needs more healers._ Aelin smiled and she wondered if that girl was still there.

. . .

According to Rowan's calculations, they could be in Terrasen in two weeks. Rowan's ship and Chaol's ship would leave first to get there and make the necessary preparations. They'd already sent word to the lords of Terrasen that they didn't care what they thought of Aelin, that it was time to stop messing around. Aelin was queen, and if they didn't accept that, Terrasen would surely be taken for the second time.

They left immediately. A few days after their initial departure, a letter came from the lords of Terrasen.

Despite the words they'd used in their letters, language that was clearly not to be disregarded or disobeyed, Rowan was still nervous about their reaction. No progress in Terrasen could be made if the lords did not approve it.

 _Dear Prince Whitethorn,_

 _If Princess Aelin can bring Terrasen an army of size, effectiveness, and value, we will accept her as queen. Good luck._

It was no small amount of anger that rose up at the sight of his queen being so wrongfully addressed. But at least their demand had already been taken care of. By the time the second half of Chaol's armada showed up, they would have an army of over 5,000 ships, 700,000 men, 100,000 wyverns, and 100,000 ruks. That made an army of almost one million assets. Yes, they were set. War was coming, and they needed to be prepared.

But the other thing that was worrying Rowan was that Aelin had not sent another message to him. He hoped that she was trying to tell him not to send anything else for some reason, and not that she was dead. He would not accept it.

So Rowan kept his faith. He refused to let the darkness in. Not this time.

. . .

Once Aelin's little cadre had had adequate time to catch their breath and regroup, Aelin shifted into her human form, and got a hotel room. They dumped Cairn in it with the door locked, even though Aelin ensured he wouldn't wake up this time—unless she wanted him to. She helped Connall, Vaughan, and Fenrys arrange their hair so it covered their ears. She could do nothing about their height, but it helped a little when she instructed them to slouch.

However, the three of them walked with unnatural grace. So Aelin tried to teach them how to walk more like humans. And for the first time in a long time, she truly laughed.

"No—did I say stomp? I said walk heavier, not _stomp._ "

"What are you doing with your arms? They don't need to go _that_ far forward."

"I know I said to lower your head a little, but you're going to need it higher than that if you're going to be able to see anything around you."

They went out on the streets, looking like a bunch of aliens, and Aelin told them to stand around and look interested while she went to ask a store vendor why there were so few guards around the Torre.

"Haven't you heard?" The woman asked. When Aelin shook her head, the woman leaned in excitedly and whispered, as if they were gossiping, "It's been empty for months. All the healers left with the Hand to the King of Adarlan after he married that Towers girl and took half of our armadas _and_ our aerial legion!"

Oh, they were _so_ going to recreate Chaol's wedding when she saw him again. How _dare_ he get married without inviting her? Inviting Dorian?

But in truth, Aelin was so happy for him. Not only had he managed to get a massive army, he'd also gotten a wife. She hoped that they would survive this war together. Chaol was a man who deserved happiness, after all he'd been through.

Aelin nodded and walked back to where her cadre stood waiting. She explained that one of her court had won over the Khagan. She decided that they would pay a visit to the man and find out what he knew.

"Forgive me, Great Khagan, but it seems that despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you still have a bit of a security problem," Aelin crooned as the entered his courtroom. Gasps rang out, but the Khagan nearly dragged a tired hand over his face.

"What is it that you want from me, Your Majesty?" he demanded.

"Information," she answered without hesitation. "It seems my friend Lord Chaol Westfall has come and gone through these parts, the latter with a rather large army in tow."

She stood tall, returned to Fae form, the warriors behind her having done the same.

The prince on the Khagan's right then spoke up, "Information would be my department," he said. And with that, Prince Arghun explained all that had taken place while Chaol was here. Up to the very end. He also briefly explained where Nesryn had gone, and the lover _she_ had also returned with. "Now," he said once he'd finished. "Might we have some information from you?"

So Aelin told them what happened to her from the moment the last battle had ended up until her arrival in their land. Each prince, princess, and the Khagan himself had leaned forward when she discussed her unfortunate crossing of paths with Maeve and her little torture toy.

"I have two favors to ask," Aelin said. "And in my opinion, I would find them quite easy to fulfill."

"You might think that," Arghun snapped, but the Khagan shushed him.

"What is it you need?" The Khagan asked.

Aelin responded, "One ship in fighting condition. I understand that Chaol took most of them with him, but I'm sure you kept a few for yourself. I'm asking you to help out a strong potential ally."

The Khagan nodded, though Arghun scoffed and rolled his eyes. "And the other favor?"

This was only more information. "I'd only like to know if, when Chaol left here, did he do it on his feet? Can he walk?"

The Khagan opened his mouth to answer her, but the only remaining princess, Duva, cut him off. "We'll tell you," she said. "If you introduce the three Fae warriors you have brought into our palace."

Fenrys made a choking sound behind her.

Aelin nodded with a grin on her face and stepped aside to present her cadre. When she was finished, Duva piped up once more, confusion on her face. "So none of these males are Prince Rowan Whitethorn?"

His name struck a chord in Aelin's heart. She pressed her lips together. "No," she responded. "I have yet to reunite with my husband." She avoided the word 'mate' for fear the information might somehow reach Rowan before she could tell him herself.

Duva nodded, and Aelin was dismissed, with a written order for one of the Khagan's boats. She thanked him once, and then they were on their way.

"We'll get back to him, Aelin," Fenrys said once they were on their way and sailing again.

Aelin turned to him and nodded. "I know we will," she said.

. . .

 **Time Jump**

They reached Terrasen faster than expected. It only took Rowan and Chaol's boats one week to reach its shores. They were forced to continue inward on horseback toward the capital. A meeting had been arranged with Darrow once they arrived in Orynth.

Lysandra had returned to her own body. And Aedion still refused to speak to her any more than was necessary. He felt her growing annoyed at the treatment, and didn't care. He was, however, grateful that he didn't have to look at Aelin sitting beside him anymore. He didn't have to pretend everything was fine.

He had barely even let himself believe that Rowan was telling the truth. It was too much hope to think that she was safe and on her way towards them. A hope that, if it were proven false, would fall upon Aedion and effectively crush him.

"Aedion, gods-damn it, talk to me!" Lysandra had finally snapped from where she'd been riding next to him for two hours. She had likely been saying something. Aedion hadn't been paying attention. He'd been busy feeling smug that Darrow's only protest to Aelin being queen had been squashed.

"What do you want me to say, Lysandra?" Aedion asked, his voice cold, without looking away from the path in front of them.

"Anything!" she snapped. "Look, I know we should've told you Aelin's plan and I know you're angry?"

"Angry? Angry?" Aedion asked, pronouncing it the second time with each syllable emphasized. "I am _furious._ You do realize when somebody doesn't tell another person something, it usually means that first person doesn't trust the second? Aelin has every reason to trust me. _You_ have every reason."

"We didn't do it because we didn't trust you, we did it because we knew you would try to stop her."

"And what if I had stopped her? She would be safe. She wouldn't have fallen straight into Maeve's gods-damned bloody hands!" He yelled.

Lysandra receded, just a bit. Aedion thought they were done with it, but then, "I just didn't think you were the kind of person to only hate me when Aelin was just as responsible," Lysandra mumbled.

"How the hell do you know if I'm mad at Aelin or not? I'll tell you: I really am. If she were here, I would hug the hell out of her. And then I would scream at her. Okay? That's how _mad_ I _am,_ " and maybe he shouldn't have, but Aedion decided to add, "And I don't hate you, Lysandra."

"You said we should be friends. You said you wanted to be closer," Lysandra complained. "And now that I've made one mistake-,"

"You talk about it like you forgot to tell me that Aelin went on a grocery run," Aedion interrupted. "It was Aelin's _life._ Yes, you made a mistake. A _big_ one. Learn to live with it. And maybe someday I'll learn to forgive you."

He moved to trot forward and end the conversation, but Lysandra said, so quietly he would have heard it without his Fae hearing, "I'm not an immortal, Aedion."

He stopped and turned back, finally looking her in the eye. "Neither am I, Lysandra. Aelin is, but I may not be. At the moment, I'm just as fragile as you are."

And he rode away, without letting her say another word.

 **Hey there! So obviously I just started this story and the inspiration just keeps flowing, so I'll likely be updating pretty often for now. Please review…I really enjoy knowing what you guys think of it so far! (P.S., if you are also a fan of the Mortal Instruments or The Selection Series, you should check out my profile and take a peek at my other stories.)**

 **Embraces and Endearments, MajorArcana2**


	7. Honest

_I am Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius and I will not be afraid._

"Excuse me."

Rowan's voice rang out strong in the throne room of the palace at Orynth. He did not take the throne. He wouldn't acknowledge whatever authority he had left until Aelin was here to give it to him. And he believed that she would be.

The cameras were on. He had the whole court standing behind him. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide, Lorcan, Gavriel, Chaol, Yrene, Nesryn, Sartaq, Darrow, and the rest of the lords were present, supporting Rowan as he prepared to speak to all of Terrasen.

"My job today is to speak to all of you—all of Terrasen—about your queen.

"Many of you were made to believe she was dead. There may even be some of you who are watching that already know that she is not. But for those who don't: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius is alive." Rowan stopped himself from adding _and well_ to the end. That wasn't yet confirmed.

"When Adarlan invaded Terrasen, ten and a half years ago, the King made it appear as if she were dead. But through the brave and fatal heroics of Marion Lochan, she was able to survive. Her Majesty then ventured to Adarlan, at the young age of eight, to build a life and, someday, a revolution for her country.

"You will be told that Her Majesty spent her ten years in Adarlan living among riches and luxury. You will be told that she has never cared for her country. I plan to explain to you now exactly why you will be told wrong.

"Every moment of her life, the queen was caught in some form of slavery. When she made it to Adarlan, she was robbed and kidnapped by Arobynn Hamel, who later claimed he had saved her. But Arobynn turned her into a skilled, feared assassin. But she never forgot what she was fighting for during those nine years, not once. Not when the love of her life was tortured and murdered in front of her. Not when she was set up to be captured and brought to the salt mines in Endovier. Not when she was offered freedom and the chance to return to her country at the high price of possibly losing her life.

"And through all of this, Aelin desperately fought against the evil that was quickly gaining hold in Adarlan. She has fought for her life more times than can be counted. Every time she fought for her life, she also fought for this country, and it's right to survive. When Aelin finally managed to break free of her lifelong captors, she gathered a court of assassins and thieves and exiles and commoners because those were the people with a vendetta to be avenged. Those were the people with the mix of hope and anger they needed to win a war. The people who she trusted with her life because they _hadn't_ grown up protected.

"And if you're wondering where she is now, I'll give you an answer: hell on earth. Almost two months ago, a battle of epic proportions raged in Southern Eyllwe. And Aelin, without the knowledge of anyone on her court, was preparing to sacrifice herself to forge a new lock and keep the entire _world_ safe from the Valg. But she never got the chance to be the hero she is, that day. For Maeve, who has been deceiving the whole world for centuries, knew of Aelin's efforts and would not allow her to die. Maeve, who is not a queen of the Fae but a queen of the Valg. And who's one servants, I being one of them, will attest to that fact and the one that says what a cruel, heartless, evil creature Maeve is.

"Maeve came, and she let hell reign down. She forced Aelin to her knees and had her whipped. She tried to make Aelin count the lashes, as she had been demanded just two years' prior in Endovier. And when she refused, Maeve would start again."

Rowan paused, making it seem like it was for effect. But really, he had needed just a moment to catch his gods-damned breath. It had been so long since he'd confronted the entirety of everything that had been done to his beautiful wife in those years.

"When she was finally satisfied, Maeve put Aelin's hands in iron cuffs. She placed an iron mask over her face. And then she forced Aelin into an iron sarcophagus. Completely helpless. What a dishonor, to a queen so powerful. And yet, somehow, we believe Aelin has managed to survive. And why?

"For you. Her people. Her country. I understand that you won't trust me. You may not even trust Aelin, right away. All I ask is that you just think of what she has been through and imagine if it were you. Or your child. How you would wish to be treated. How you would treat them. And display that same, bare minimum of respect to the queen who has fought so valiantly. Not for herself, never for herself. Only for her country."

He let it settle in. Let these people watching feel the weight that he felt. And then he continued.

"If," Rowan's paused to calm the rapid shaking of his hands. "By some miracle, Her Majesty survives. If she makes it home and is strong enough to look at her actions, acknowledge that they were ugly, and learn to forgive herself and honor the others who have caused her pain, then I believe we can pay her our loyalty. Especially now that war is on the horizon.

"On behalf of the queen, I invite you to embrace the kingdom of assassins and thieves and exiles and commoners. Become of a part of it. For it is a court of dreams. One that fights for a better world, somewhere in the future. One that praises the stars who listen and the dreams that are answered."

And Rowan walked away.

 _To whatever end._

. . .

Aelin and her cadre had made very little progress. It had been over a week, and Connall's powers were still weak and flagging any time he tried to use them. They were forced to travel through a displeased sea and wait for Connall's magic to refill.

Aelin wished she could talk to Rowan. It would have made the whole ordeal better. But she knew that as long as Maeve was still alive, her power was attached to their bond. Aelin seriously doubted Maeve could have been killed in the minor boat crash—she was, after all, immortal—and so Aelin didn't touch the bond, and wouldn't touch it, for the rest of her trip. Not even a brush. It hurt to do so. Now that Aelin had seen his face and heard his voice, all she wanted was more.

But Aelin had been denied things her entire life, whether it was freedom or happiness or just some gods-damned sleep. She could refrain. She told herself that once Connall regained his power, they could be on Terrasen's border in less than three days. But even then, it would take them long to reach Orynth, for Fenrys could not teleport so many people, over such long distances, so many times. They would just have to do a lot of walking.

They would make it there, first. Aelin would rejoin her court, and then they could go on saving the world. Fighting this grand, evil war.

Because when Aelin made it back to her court, she did not plan to let go so easily. Never again.

That night, while Aelin was alone on watch, she allowed herself to think on what Maeve had said that day she'd escaped.

 _There is another way._

Of course, Maeve's other way had consisted of killing someone she loved, which Aelin would never do. She also didn't trust Maeve's information at all. But it had sparked something in her mind. Something that made her believe there really was another way.

Aelin would still have to die.

But she wouldn't have to _stay_ that way.

One thing Maeve had said was true: this other way would have something to do with a loved one. She hadn't really known it was real until the Khagan had spoken of it during her short visit.

He'd been explaining how Chaol had apparently been on the brink of death when Yrene had come to him. She had tried and failed to heal his massive amount of injuries. Then, just as he'd been slipping away into darkness, she'd been asked if she was willing to pay the cost.

This made Aelin wonder if she could find someone who might be able to pay her cost, as she died. Of course, it would depend on what exactly the cost was. If it was anything at all dangerous, she would forbid every member of her court from paying it. (Not that they would listen, however. Aelin decided she'd have to find a different way to keep them from doing that.)

She didn't really allow herself to think about it too much. If she did that, she might start to hope. Which was a very bad idea. Especially in her current situation, where they were at open sea and anyone could show up and try to kill her.

. . .

Four days later, Connall had enough strength to push at the ocean. Soon they had reached its maximum safe speed, which Connall claimed he could keep at steadily for two days. Fenrys, however, had whispered to her that they should get him resting twelve hours before that point. That way, he could regenerate quicker and they could move on faster.

But Aelin wondered if they might already be in Terrasen by the time his clock ran out.

Indeed, by the end of the second day—Connall had refused to stop at the day-and-a-half point—their boat had drifted onto the shores of Terrasen. Her country. Her _home._ They hadn't come into the harbor, trying to be more discrete, so Aelin had no way of knowing if her court had made it here.

She wished she could just send him one word. Or simply brush the bond just to see if she could sense him nearby. But she couldn't. Especially now that if Maeve indeed tracked her, Aelin would lead Maeve straight to her country. Which would be pure chaos.

Aelin wanted to leave as soon as possible. But Fenrys had told her that Connall would need another two days to regain his energy before he could safely travel.

"Go on without us," Fenrys said. "You can take Vaughan."

Aelin contemplated it, but there really was no choice. And no matter how badly she didn't want to…

"No," Aelin decided. "We stick together. Much safer that way."

And that hurt too. Now, nearing the end of their first day of burnout healing, Aelin almost wished she'd made a different decision. Their food sources were rapidly depleting and they didn't know how long it would take to get to Orynth. Not to mention, Aelin's heart was starting to buzz at the possibility that she might be able to see—

No. _Heeeeelllllll_ no. Hope was a killer and Aelin knew it. She wouldn't let it take her down so easily.

Aelin forced herself to believe that he was still somewhere on the other side of the world. That there was no possible way to see him unless she wanted to make that trip.

Obviously, it started to work _too_ well because Aelin very much did want to make that trip.

"I know you're restless," Vaughan said, coming up to her from behind. She hadn't heard him approach, and chided herself at how much of her surroundings she was failing to pay attention to.

Aelin smirked, but it wasn't as mischievous as usual. "Am I so easy to read?"

Vaughan smiled, a quick flash of teeth. "No, but the tree you've been staring at for the past hour and a half is slowly burning to the ground," he said.

And sure enough, when she looked back, there was a massive, fiery storm that had that poor tree nearly in ashes.

Aelin found herself laughing again, to her surprise. She found it appalling that a girl as broken as she was still had enough joy in her life to laugh.

She was grateful for that, at least.

"Why, then?" Vaughan asked, drawing her back to their current situation.

"Why, what?" Aelin asked him.

"Why stay? You obviously want to go. Find Rowan, and the rest of your court. Maybe even find happiness, if you're lucky," he clarified.

Aelin considered. "I meant what I said," she decided. "It's safer for us to stay together.

"But somewhere deep inside me, I sometimes think, it's because I'm too scared. I don't want to get to Orynth and find that Erawan has already passed through, left thousands dead in his wake. I don't want to think Maeve caught up to my court before she caught up to us. Because if that's true, I don't really have anything left to fight for. Except the rest of the world, I suppose."

Vaughan cracked another smile. "I didn't think fire-wielding, all powerful, Fae queens got scared," he joked.

"Everybody is scared of something," Aelin said.

Vaughan nodded. "You wanna hear something crazy?" he asked.

For the hell of it, Aelin nodded.

"My biggest fear is…glass."

"Glass?" Aelin repeated. "What, did you receive a near-fatal injury from it when you were a young Fae?"

He shook his head. "No, I…well, Maeve forced you into an iron coffin, right?" Aelin nodded, though it was unnecessary. "Well, she put my parents in glass coffins."

Aelin didn't say anything. She knew what it felt like to just want someone to listen. So she listened.

"I just get so terrified at the idea of something so clear. You could see everything happening outside, feel close enough to touch it, and yet when you try," he ground his teeth together. "You can't get through. The glass doesn't break. It stays there."

They were silent for a few minutes, until Vaughan laughed humorlessly and shook his head, saying, "It's crazy, I know."

"It absolutely isn't," Aelin said, and when Vaughan looked back at her, she saw the genuine pain on his face. "I'll tell you three things. One, you could chop off all my fingers and all my toes. You could cut me so many times you wouldn't be able to find any clear skin. You could pull every hair from my head, and I could take it. I'd be able to stand all of it. But when Rowan once threatened to take a whip to me, I told him I'd skin him alive. And I would've, if given the chance. I didn't care if he was Fae. I could've killed him, if he'd willingly done that to me. Still could.

"Two, and this one's good," she smirked and tried to lighten the mood. "Up to the age of five, I was dead terrified of fire."

Vaughan threw back his head and laughed. "Really?" he said, eyes squinted with laughter. "You're kidding. You were scared of your own magic?"

"I was!" Aelin laughed. "And not because I worried I would, like—burn down the castle of something. No, I was scared of it because I remembered my father reading a book to me when I was little. About—get this—fire safety."

He laughed again, until the two of them were sitting on the deck of the ship, trying to get air into their lungs. "Your father read you a book about fire safety and it scared you so much that your greatest fear was fire until you were five years old?" Vaughan asked, tears of laughter springing from the corners of his eyes.

"Yup," Aelin said, making sure to pop the "p".

"Okay, okay, but the last thing, and this might be the best one," Aelin said, holding her hands out to get Vaughan to focus on her. "When I was training at Mistward, I was furious at Rowan, like, all the time. And I once asked him if he had any friends. And he said the closest thing were you five—Gavriel, Fenrys, Connall, Lorcan, and you. But I wasn't going to remember all that so I called you his _cadre._ "

Vaughan was already laughing, but he lost it for the third time when Aelin added, "And Rowan—honest-to-gods— _hated_ it."

"So, naturally," Aelin continued over his cackling. "I continued to call you guys that _all_ the _time._ Even when I told him to ask you to come help us fight the Valg princes. And now, he calls you that, too, if only for lack of a better word."

She felt so comfortable with Vaughan in that moment that she could've told him her whole life story. She almost told him how furious she'd been when Rowan had been whipped in Doranelle, but didn't want to ruin their humorous mood. Maybe another day, she would share that secret.

Either way, she had made a friend. That night, Aelin found sleep with a smile still on her face.

. . .

The next day, Connall demanded they get moving. Fenrys was hesitant, but Connall insisted he could handle it. Aelin had excitement buzzing along through her veins. She tried to suffocate it, but had trouble. Trying instead to think about—well, anything else.

"You would've hated Adarlan," Aelin said to Vaughan as they packed up their things.

"Why?" Vaughan asked. "Besides the obvious."

Yes, yes, the slaughter and banishing of all things good and all things magic. "No, you would've hated it because 85% of the castle in Rifthold was made of pure glass," she told him.

Vaughan turned to her, a concerned expression on his face. "That seems awfully not smart?"

"I know, right? I mean, one well-aimed bullet and the whole thing shatters."

Vaughan chuckled, but Aelin continued with her story. "Actually, I was staying there, after we got magic back. They put me in the only part of the castle that was made of stone. I guess that was unknowingly smart of them, seeing as I could've melted the whole thing if I'd gotten angry enough."

He laughed again, and then asked, "But, how did you free magic? You were responsible for it, right?"

She nodded. "Me, Rowan, and a few very essential others. There are these three watchtowers, forming a triangle across all of Adarlan's previously conquered land. We found out that if we took one of them out, we could break the chain and magic would be freed. So we did."

"Really?" Vaughan asked, astonished.

Aelin nodded. "It wasn't without it's difficulties, but we managed.

"We always manage."

. . .

Aelin could see her city.

They'd been running full speed in their Fae forms when the top of the castle had peaked into view. Her heart was breaking and reforming all at once. She remembered how this place had looked the day all hell broke loose. She also remembered how it had looked in times of peace and serenity. She remembered it here.

She loved it here.

When they made their way into the city, Aelin had to pull her hood up over her head in an attempt to stay disguised from her people.

She stopped at a news stand to see if there was any news on her court.

There was.

Aelin's hands covered her mouth, covered the sobs that threatened to rack her body. In relief. Rowan's face was everywhere. He was the front page of every paper. The headlines varied, from **FARAWAY PRINCE CLAIMS THE SURVIVAL OF QUEEN AELIN GALATHYNIUS** , to **DO WE TRUST HIM? PRINCE OF DORANELLE ASKS TERRASEN TO TRUST HIM** , to her absolute favorite **PRINCE ROWAN WHITETHORN ON WHY AELIN GALATHYNIUS DESERVES RESPECT AND HER PLACE AS QUEEN.**

Her Rowan. He had done the impossible. He had somehow managed to do the impossible. Her home, her country, her people…they were all slowly starting to accept her. As queen.

Aelin couldn't wait any longer. She wanted to go to the palace. She wanted to see her family. She wanted it now.

And when she said Rowan's face was everywhere, she meant it.

Except is wasn't his face she caught sight of on the other side of the square. It was his hair.

There he was.


	8. Miracles Happen

**So…here it is. I'll admit I didn't really know how to write this, because no reunion is good enough for this pair. But I tried my best. Enjoy!**

Aelin would've fallen to her knees.

Would've, if she hadn't been so concerned with running headfirst toward Rowan.

And then she did fall with a startling crack, and she was hauled backwards by her hood. She winced but she hadn't drawn the attention of anyone in the square.

"What was that?" She growled at Fenrys.

He only took her by the wrist and dragged her back to the edge of the crowd. "You can go to him," he said. "But not here."

"That what am I supposed to do?" Aelin snapped. He was right, but she'd had enough waiting. Especially as she lost sight of Rowan's form in the bustling crowd.

"I'll get him to follow me back to the palace and you can go ahead and meet us there there. I'll lead him right to you. Where it's quieter. Less public," Vaughan suggested, and begrudgingly, she nodded.

Once before, when Aelin had surprised Rowan in Skull's Bay, she had hidden her scent from him. She did the same thing now. And though it killed her, Aelin forced herself to walk away from Rowan, telling herself she'd see him soon. She hoped she would. Aelin didn't even scold herself for it.

. . .

Vaughan was here.

Vaughan, a member of Maeve's court. Of her cadre. Her loyal, willing servants.

If Vaughan was here, then something bad was about to happen.

Rowan pretended not to know who it was that pushed past him, "accidentally" shoving him. Vaughan, though he was hooded and his scent easily recognizable, was too familiar for Rowan not to see. Rowan knew the way he walked. So he followed him in the direction of the palace.

Rowan had been out discretely, in disguise as a simple commoner, so that he could hear the actual opinions of the speech he'd given and if they believed him.

Terrasen, had taken surprisingly well to it. Very few people spoke out with accusations against Aelin that Rowan had easily proved false. Other than that, everyone seemed to believe everything Rowan had said. Which was good, because it was true. Now she just had to make her grand appearance.

And they'd been waiting. Almost a full week had passed since they'd arrived there. Rowan was growing worried that his initial suspicions had been correct. Aelin had simply sent them here while she followed through with her plan in sacrificing herself. It made his stomach tumble and drop, though he should've been focusing on the fact that he had followed Vaughan to just a mile away from the palace, so far. The streets grew quieter, much less packed. Vaughan was absolutely headed to the palace. It was a good thing Rowan would be on him before he could try anything.

Vaughan soon reached the palace and ascended one of the servant's stairwells. Rowan followed him swiftly, timing his steps so they landed at the same time as Vaughan's. The male honestly had no idea Rowan was there.

This whole ordeal grew even more mysterious when Vaughan turned to head down the hallway that led to the residential wing. Rowan hadn't been this way, yet. None of them had. They'd all been sleeping on couches in the common room. No one wanted to go down the hallway where they might see the room where Aelin had slept as a child, where they might see remnants of her hectic childhood. Whether it was a doll with burn marks or a patch of carpet with bloodstains on it, Rowan did not want to see Aelin's room. Not without her.

But that's exactly where Vaughan went. Rowan's heartbeat tripled in its pace, and he was forced to take a deep breath to calm himself before he stepped through the door way. He shut the door behind him.

Vaughan just kept walking. So Rowan stepped forward and held his knife to the male's throat. Vaughan immediately threw his hands into the air, surrendering. Aelin's room was large. There were only standing in the entryway of it.

"Rowan, it's me. Vaughan," he said.

"I know exactly who you are," Rowan answered grimly. "I want to know why you're here."

"Just let me go and you'll see."

"Like hell I…"

Rowan trailed off as he smelled something. He smelled Aelin. And it could've just been the room. Maybe Vaughan had seen her wherever Maeve was keeping her. But…

Rowan's knife clattered to the floor.

"Aelin!" he shouted, and his heartbeat increased tenfold when he heard sprinting footsteps in the next room over.

Rowan was there in seconds, not believing his eyes, but there she was.

. . .

Aelin didn't hesitate to throw herself into Rowan's arms. And he didn't hesitate to catch her.

She was sobbing, or would've been, if she'd had enough air in her lungs. This male…Rowan…she was holding him…he was real.

"Aelin," he whispered as they fell to the floor, and it was a question. Rowan leaned against the wall and Aelin forced herself to pry her head out of his chest.

She nodded. "It's me. I'm here, Rowan," she wanted to kiss him or hold him or just simply touch him.

Rowan felt the same way. She could see it in his eyes. Felt it in the way he held her. "How do I know?" He asked, trying to make his expression cut off.

The tears finally started leaking from Aelin's eyes and it was an effort to get the words out. "I know that you lied when you said you hadn't missed me in Wendlyn. I know it took a while, but you claimed me as a friend, too. You told me I collected stars. I've been through all of your territorial Fae bull. And I know that even when this world is whisper of dust between the stars, you will love me," she took a shuddering breath as she saw that gleam of truth in Rowan's eyes. "To whatever end."

Rowan pulled her closer to him, holding her as she sobbed. She had missed him so much. And she let herself believe, for one second, that maybe he would want her as a mate. She began to believe it as Rowan started whispering things to her.

"I love you," he said over and over again. He whispered her name into her hair and squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears from falling.

. . .

His Fireheart.

She was alive and she was here. Her mind was untouched and she was _so strong_. She had escaped Maeve and made it here. Back to him. Where she belonged. He held her tighter every second and knew that the cries that racked her body were effects of the same overwhelming joy he was feeling.

He loved her. This beautiful, strong, sassy, intelligent, female. He loved her even if she was broken. Ever if she was an assassin and a thief and an exile. Even if she lied and cheated and pretended. He didn't care. He wanted all of it. He loved all of it. All of her. His mate.

He had realized it so long ago, and hadn't been able to admit it. He couldn't because he hadn't believed he could honor Lyria and still worship Aelin. But he could. And he planned to. Rowan had told the gods so, every day for the past nearly 200 days she'd been missing from him. He'd missed her every one of the 4,380 hours she'd been gone. Every one of the 262, 800 minutes she hadn't been in his life, but in his mind.

He wouldn't have admitted it, but now he could. He'd thought she would never come back to him. He'd thought she would die or was already dead but she wasn't. She was here with him. And it would stay that way for a long time. Rowan was sure of it.

He didn't realize it, but he'd been telling her all of this. Whispering it into her hair. Didn't realize until she looked at him and it shone there, so beautiful in her eyes. The bond between them was touchable, ablaze with the fire he loved so dearly. He watched as it burned, as it incinerated every darkness around it, even that bit of power that he knew came from Maeve without Aelin having to tell him.

And once it was gone, he could hear her so clearly.

Aelin didn't speak. Instead, she showed him. Every moment from Mistward when she'd hated him even though she found him impeccably brilliant. The exact second she'd known she was falling in love with him, and had simply claimed him as a friend. She showed him how badly she'd wanted him to be with her in Rifthold, while he was in Wendlyn. How it had so completely wrecked her, and how he had so completely fixed her when she found him in that alley.

She showed him every minute in between then and the time she'd known they were mates. Every kiss, exchanged _I love you_ and every other meaningful word. She gave him a glimpse of what she'd felt, beyond the pleasure, that night on the beach. And when the bond had snapped into place…it had been before that, when he had thrown himself in front of her arm to block her fire because he'd known she would stop. How she had decided, with absolutely no qualms, that she would rather destroy a whole world than destroy Rowan.

And would do it again.

That's when she had known. She gave him her perspective of their rushed but still so perfect wedding. _To whatever end._ She gave him their world, and how the only thing that kept her alive during those months with Maeve was thinking of him, even though she believed he might hate her. How in those moments, before Aelin had been thrown into that iron coffin, that the only one she wanted to talk to, apologize to, was Rowan. She showed him of how she'd always been searching for him and that she would've relived all her worst nightmares thousands of times over if it meant she could touch him just once. Of how those were her words when she prayed to the gods in Maeve's prison.

Of how she would always, always, do anything and everything for him.

And so Rowan gave her his.

He gave her the moment she'd gotten to Mistward, because he'd known that he was in for such hell and was going to love it. He gave her his perspective of every memory. He gave her the kisses, and the _I love you's_ as well, but he also gave her their small talk. How he had raged when she told him of the hell she'd been through. He gave her the jokes she told him that pulled him from the brink of a depression he'd never get out of. He showed her the days and words he regretted and would take back but had known they'd only made him love her more.

He gave her the moment when he accepted her as his mate. Just seconds after he'd realized it. Without knowing it. Because his heart had made the decision for him and Rowan was so grateful for it.

He didn't know how long they sat there, holding each other so tight. But eventually, he told her of what had happened when she'd been gone.

"Chaol brought a huge armada," he told her and she nodded. Rowan kissed away a tear on the tip of her nose.

"He got married. And Dorian's been sleeping with Manon," he kissed away a tear on her jawbone. Aelin bit her lip.

"Elide and Lorcan are mates," and he kissed a tear just under her eye.

"And we're going to win this war, you and me. And I have missed you every second," he kissed the spot where her ear met her neck, dragging a groan from deep in her throat.

And then she told him of her journey to him. "I got Fenrys and Connall to take me to the sea," and she kissed his eyelid.

"And when Vaughan joined us, he was in his animal form. And I thought he was you. And I was so excited, for just a moment," she kissed the corner of his mouth.

"He told me that he could reverse Maeve's declaration of Gavriel and Lorcan dishonorable males, and I told him to do it," she kissed his cheekbone.

"And Maeve tracked me through our mating bond, and she tried to take me back, so Connall helped me ram her into a cliff. It's a long story," she kissed his forehead.

"And I brought you a present," she said, and he looked her in the eye, caught that mischievous glint. "I brought Cairn."

Rowan kissed her on the lips before she could continue to tease him. He would think of the things he would do to that evil hellion later. There were other things he wanted to do first.

Rowan had missed the sounds she made when he surprised her, so he lifted her onto the bed. He missed some other sounds she made when he did certain things to her body, so he snapped a soundproof shield of air around them.

. . .

Aelin was probably at least a little bit evil.

After all, she and Rowan had planned a way to surprise the rest of her court in a way that was fun for her and Rowan and probably heart-attack-inducing for the people they would be surprising. But she didn't mind.

There were, however, a few people she wanted to see.

Aelin had to go and find Aedion. He would be extremely upset if she didn't see to that immediately. So she found herself following Rowan to where Aedion was posted, keeping guard. Aelin pulled up her hood and kept walking, leaving Rowan watching from around the corner.

"Ma'am, you can't be in here," Aedion's voice echoed throughout the hall, leaving shock waves coursing through Aelin's heart. "I'm sorry, but beyond this section of the palace is for royals only."

Aedion was so wasted standing here, she thought. He was supposed to be her Captain of the Guard, was he not?

"I think I've got it covered, Aed," Aelin said, smirking as she pulled her hood back to reveal her face.

Aedion barked a curse as he strode for her, and just the way he looked at her, eyes burning…it was enough to make Aelin want to start sobbing all over again.

"I thought you were going to die," Aedion choked, taking her face in his hands and inspecting her for injuries. Aelin couldn't speak, so she just nodded.

"Tell me what she did to you," Aedion whispered desperately. She saw the anger boiling quickly to the surface, and decided to clamp the lid shut on it. For now.

Aelin shook her head. "Another time," her voice shook as she spoke.

Aedion bit his teeth, reluctant, but finally agreed as he pulled her closer and she hugged him tightly, another person she would never, ever want to let go. Not again. She didn't know how long they stood their holding each other, but after a while, Rowan cleared his throat, and when she glanced to him, he pointed to where the sun was starting to fall from the sky. They were running out of time.

"I have to go, Aed," she said sadly, forcing herself to pull out of his arms. He nodded, lowering his eyes to the ground. She explained to him what they'd be doing later, with a promise she'd see him again very soon.

They turned to leave, but Aedion whirled on his heel, taking Aelin by the wrist. "You did something stupid…please, please don't do it again," he begged. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, gritted his teeth. "You may think you don't mean anything to anybody in this world, but you do. You mean something to me. I need you. Okay?"

Silver glistened in his eyes. Aelin had never seen him look so vulnerable. In that moment, she truly wished—for the first time—that she had never done it. Any of it. Even if she hadn't known what Maeve would do. She hadn't regretted it for Rowan. She had always known that, even if he claimed otherwise, that Rowan was strong enough to handle it. And Aedion had always worn a mask over who he really was. One that had portrayed him as strong enough to get through it. But Aelin had forgotten to look beyond that mask. She'd forgotten to see that he really wasn't strong enough at all—at least, not yet.

Aelin nodded. Tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. And it didn't cover it. But somehow it did. Somehow it was everything she wanted to say. And Aedion nodded back. He understood too.

So Aelin let Rowan take her hand and lead her away, to the next room on her list.

Rowan helped her sneak unnoticed into the room that Chaol and Yrene shared. But it obviously wasn't as effective as she wished, as within five seconds, Aelin was slammed against a somebody's chest with a knife to her throat.

"Who are you and why are you here," Chaol growled.

It had taken her so long to believe it. She supposed she never really did. But he was standing. _Walking._ And in prime fighting shape, if those familiar muscles were anything at all to go by.

"Well, damn, Chaol, I knew you were a hardass, but I thought you'd go easy on an old friend," she teased.

Chaol released her instantly, covering his gaping mouth with a hand. He took a moment just to stare at her. He surveyed her body, not in the way he used to, but as if he were checking her for fatal injuries. Or to make sure she was really her. Not Lysandra (with much better acting skills) or one of Maeve's newest tricks.

He seemed to finally be satisfied. Chaol stepped forward and hugged her hard, expelling a breath against her shoulder. "I knew you'd make it," Chaol said, releasing her with a grin.

"And you're walking," she remarked.

His grin became playful. "All thanks to Yrene," he said.

"Yeah," Aelin nodded. "I'd like to meet her."

"Because of the note?" Chaol asked, and Aelin nodded. _Along with other things._ "She should be back soon."

Conveniently, a knock came on the door about ten minutes later. Chaol went to greet her, and Aelin heard him say, "Come on. There's someone I think you should meet."

Footsteps trailed through the hallway, and Aelin gazed around, trying to look uninterested. Meanwhile, she logged every exit and possible weapon in the room. It was a habit she'd always followed, but had worshipped more heavily when Rowan told her he'd once killed a man with a table.

Or had it been a chair?  
"Lysandra," Aelin turned to see Yrene in the doorway, Chaol smirking behind her. She watched him as he watched her. The love in his eyes. She hoped Yrene deserved Chaol.

Speaking of Yrene, she still looked the same as when Aelin had saved her back in Innish. But she had a stronger glow about her. And much happier.

"Not Lysandra," Chaol corrected her. "Aelin."

Yrene whirled to him, a look of astonishment on her face. "The real one? She lived?"

Chaol laughed, such a beautiful sound. She didn't know if she'd ever heard anything like it from him. She was glad he'd found someone who could bring a smile to his face and light to his heart.

"She did," Chaol answered.

Yrene turned back to Aelin, stepping toward her and fiddling with a locket around her neck. She watched as the girl pulled a faded, crumpled piece of paper from it, and handed it to Aelin.

Familiar handwriting stared back at her. Her own. She struck a grin.

"For everywhere you need to go,'" Aelin quoted from it.

"'And then some,'" Yrene followed.

Aelin looked from the paper up to Yrene, still smiling. "This world needs more healers."

Yrene smiled back at her.

"I knew you'd keep the money and the jewels," Aelin said, chuckling a bit. "But I didn't think you'd keep the _note._ "

Yrene laughed with her. "Well, I needed the motivation for whenever this one's attitude got to be too much," she joked, jerking her head at Chaol, who rolled his eyes.

Aelin liked her already. "I'm glad you took the advice, Yrene. From what I hear, you're going to help us win this war."

Yrene nodded, and Aelin didn't fail to notice that there was not on ounce of fear anywhere in her face our body. Yes, she really did like Yrene. More when she said, "That's the plan."

. . .

The last person Aelin visited was Manon.

She knew that Manon really wouldn't care if Aelin had survived or not, and Rowan was confused as to why Aelin wanted to see her at all, but like always, she had her reasons.

They found the witch in the aerie, having a meeting with what Aelin assumed were her captains and the leaders of the Crochan witches.

Aelin waited behind Manon's back for her to finish speaking, though everyone except for Asterin seemed to have trouble paying attention. They all kept flicking their eyes to Aelin enough so the smirk growing on Aelin's face soon turned into a full-on, questionably not-evil smile. Enough so that Manon let loose a deadly growl and whirled on her toe, stalking towards Aelin.

She didn't show one hint of surprise—exactly what Aelin had counted on.

"So you lived," Manon snarled. "What do you want from me?"

Aelin smirked. "I've been gone a while."

"Obviously."

"And you're the only one I can trust to tell me what's really been going on. I don't want you to tell me every _good_ thing that happened, I just want everything that happened. I want to know exactly how deep we are in hell. Can you do that?"

"Yeah," Manon said, crossing her arms over her chest. "But not now. I'm kind of in the middle of something, Your Majesty," she pronounced the title like it was a particularly vulgar insect.

"That's what I thought," Aelin said.

But as she turned to leave, Manon spoke again.

"We're in over our heads," Manon said. And when Aelin narrowed her eyes, Manon added, "That's how deep in hell we are."

Aelin pressed her lips into a thin line, and walked out the door, running her fingers through her rapidly tangled hair.

 **Embraces and Endearments, MajorArcana2**


	9. Cold Water

**THIS IS THE FINAL INSTALLMENT OF** _ **Clash of the Armadas**_ **! I hope you have enjoyed reading it; I'm sorry the whole thing has been so short, but I really just wanted to see a Rowaelin reunion and decided to write it myself. (I wasn't even originally planning on a full-length story). But rest assured, ToG7 will likely be coming out this fall, which is not so much longer to wait. I hope this story has helped tide you over.**

 _ **HOWEVER**_

 **THIS IS AN IMPORTANT NOTICE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ. AS A HOPEFUL, ONE-DAY-AUTHOR, I'M REQUIRED TO WRITE A REALISTIC ENDING. I KNOW THAT SOME OF YOU WOULD PROBABLY RATHER NOT READ THIS, SO I WILL LET YOU KNOW AT WHAT POINT YOU SHOULD** **STOP READING.** **FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO CHOOSE TO FINISH THE STORY, JUST KNOW, YA GUNNA HATE ME AND YOU MIGHT CRY BECAUSE I DID WHILE WRITING IT SOOOOOO HAVE FUN.**

Lorcan could _smell_ her. Lorcan would know that scent from thousands of miles away. He knew it almost better than he knew Elide's.

Aelin.

But he would never say something. Not when he could risk getting Elide's hopes up only for it to be Lysandra with some major improvements to her costume. What was most confusing being that Rowan—brooding and depressed as always—couldn't seem to smell her. Maybe Lorcan was simply better at this than he was.

But Lorcan knew better. Either Rowan was not telling him something, or he'd been working on the smell thing with Lysandra and already knew about. Lorcan decided on the latter option, because if it was the former, you would assume that he would be happier.

Aelin's court stood solidly as a wall of support behind the podium, microphone attached. They didn't really need the microphone. If Lysandra was going to speak as Terrasen's queen tonight, the people would be silent.

Surprisingly, nerves were starting to build up in Lorcan's gut. He knew that the reaction to Whitethorn's speech a while back was almost unanimously positive, but he still worried that these people would be able to sense that the person standing before them was an imposter. Lorcan knew that if Maeve showed up right this second, he would be able to tell if it was really her.

He took a deep breath. Dorian had stressed how important it was that they appear united, loyal, and 100% positive in their "queen." They were lying to the public, and Lorcan thought this was not the way to go, but he would do it, for Elide.

As if on que, she briefly squeezed his hand from her spot beside him. He looked to her, and his predatory instincts immediately narrowed in on her, on making sure she was alright.

"You look tense," Elide whispered.

"I am," Lorcan said, and Elide's loose smile brought joy to his own lips.

She trailed her fingers down his cheek, and Lorcan closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, but she pulled away quickly. Neither of them knew when exactly the cameras would go live. "Don't be," she whispered. "Everything will be alright."

Lorcan couldn't say why, but he believed her without a doubt.

. . .

Lysandra stood, wringing her hands in front of her. Not her hands. Aelin's hands. A shiver ran violently down Lysandra's spine. She dragged air into her lungs, but her breath quivered as she released it.

"Hey," Aedion said, his voice unexpectedly gentle. He put a hand on her shoulder, his fingers rubbing comforting circles on her neck. "You'll do great."

Lysandra narrowed her eyes at him.

Aedion chuckled, as if he was—she daresay— _happy._ "Don't look at me like that," he smiled. "I can say nice things."

"Yeah, but you _haven't,_ " she emphasized. "Since you were _born._ "

Aedion threw his head back and roared with laughter. "That," he said, waggling a playful finger at her. "is _not_ true, and Aelin can attest-."

He stopped. And then the lights turned on.

. . .

Aelin just could not control her smirk. She had unbelievable fun imagining the faces of her remaining court members when she proved who she was. She wondered if any of them would figure it out before she ended her speech.

Besides, there were things more important than scaring the hell out of Lorcan Salvaterre, and that was her speech. Rowan had told her that the public's support had been in her favor, but she really wanted to make a good impression on them _herself._ Not through Rowan.

But Rowan was still the greatest.

The lights dimmed, and Rowan strode out to the podium, and ran his fingers through his hair. The smile on his face was truly contagious.

 _Smile._

. . .

The words Rowan spoke were basically useless. He knew that. He wasn't the main spectacle. His mate was. Aelin. He took a deep breath and ran through the speech that had already been prepared for him. Most of it, he recognized as bits and pieces of the words he'd spoken not one week ago. About Aelin herself. Halfway through, he glanced to his left and he saw her, smirking like a cat, and he was ready. He nodded once, minutely, and footsteps echoed across the stage.

. . .

"I have to say," Dorian commented to Aedion. "That Lysandra has certainly mastered the Aelin walk."

The golden-haired warrior smirked in a way that made quiet, mortal fear coil deep in Dorian's stomach. He cast a glance to Manon, on his other side, who mirrored the smirk and opened her mouth to tell him, but just then Lysandra's voice rang out into the mic.

All well. He should've been paying attention anyway.

"My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and I am the Queen of Terrasen," she paused, to let the shock ripple through the crowds watching. Outside the castle, Dorian could still hear gasps echoing throughout the square.

"As you've been told, I was recently kidnapped by my so-called Aunt, Maeve. I was tortured, mentally and physically, until only telling myself who I was and who I had to protect kept me moving. And now I've made it here. I outsmarted Maeve, out-forced her. I made my way home. I'm here, and I've brought armies ranging into the millions. We have evils to defeat, and that's exactly what I plan to do. Put your trust, your faith in me, and Terrasen will rise again."

It was meant to be a short speech. That way, she would leave the public hanging. Leave them wondering. She would've wanted her people to make their own decisions and assumptions about their queen and their own loyalty. But this…she had barely spoken fifty words to them.

But that was no longer what had Dorian's attention snagged.

Not when he tore his gaze from Lysandra-Aelin still standing at the podium only to see Lysandra in her own form standing behind the curtains looking stunned. Not when Aelin was _back._

. . .

The moment the lights were off, Aelin was ambushed. Not—as she had expected—by Elide or even Gavriel, but Dorian. She'd known he was observant, but he had somehow managed to figure it out before both a full-blooded Fae and the most watchful human Aelin knew.

He crashed into her with a scowling embrace, muttering sentences Aelin could barely decipher.

"Why didn't you tell me you were back—,"

"How many people have you seen before me-,"

"Are you hurt?"

When he finally pulled away, Aelin smirked and answered all three questions at once, "Because it would be fun to see the look on your face, five, and not fatally."

Dorian looked shocked. "Five?" he asked, and Aelin—for the first time in a long time— _really_ wanted to burst out laughing. But then Gavriel was shaking hands with her and congratulating her on her escape and a spectacular reentrance, and then a surprisingly impatient Elide pushed through the crowd to crush Aelin to her, and even Lorcan gave her a respectful nod, but she suspected it was mostly for Elide's benefit.

Aelin kind of wanted to pummel Lorcan for what a jerk he'd been, even though he'd done exactly what Aelin had planned on and hoped for. Elide deserved better. But she looked genuinely happy, and it was lucky for Lorcan because otherwise Aelin would've followed through on her first plan.  
Lysandra came up to hug her, though she too looked rather put off that she hadn't been informed of Aelin's return.

"At least I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not any longer," Lysandra sighed as she hugged Aelin.

But she pulled away to face the girl. "I know," she said. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted that for you. But you understand…"

"I do," Lysandra nodded, "But I do require one favor from you."

"Anything."

Lysandra smirked devilishly. "For the love of the Gods, help me get back into Aedion's good graces. It's too tiring being out of them."

Aelin smiled, but it was more of a mischievous baring of her teeth. "I'll get you so far back into his good graces you'll end up in his bed," she snickered.

The shifter wacked Aelin on the arm and looked around as if to see if anyone heard (which someone likely had; the room was more than half full of Fae or demi-Fae warriors with preternatural hearing) but still looked as if she were holding in laughter.

When Rowan came to stand behind Aelin, clicking his tongue at her to prove he most likely _had_ heard their not-so-hushed conversation, Lysandra simply whispered, "It's good to have you back, Your Majesty," and walked away.

The "Your Majesty" was not necessary and both of them knew it, but Aelin really thought she'd like the sound of it. However, coming from Lysandra's mouth, it made Aelin feel as if she were taking her as her willing servant. Almost like when she had begged Rowan not to take the blood oath because she didn't really want that kind of complete submission.

Aelin turned to Rowan relishing in the way he looked back at her, enjoying the fact that either of them _could_ look at each other. He smiled—such a bright, beautiful look on him. Aelin, before this point, was a firm believer that Rowan never smiled. Even when he was happy. He grinned, smirked, and bared his teeth. But never smiled.

Aelin had a feeling she'd spend the rest of her immortal life always trying to get that smile out of him. It didn't sound like a bad life at this point.

But they had to make sure, first, that they could still have a life. There were still a few key people that Terrasen had to demolish. And this time, it would be just Aelin at the front. She would allow her court by her side. She had refused and would continue to refuse to stay back and let her willing warriors take the brunt of the brutality. But if they wanted, this court to rattle the stars…they could fight with their queen. Not _for_ her—with her.

Yes. That's it. That was the way things were supposed—

Words stopped forming. Thoughts stopped rising. Emotions stopped flowing. Everything halted. Even time itself. Aelin tried to breath, but even her lungs would not expand or contract. But she realized that the things around her were not stopped, only moving so slowly she could barely feel it. She felt—however—the centimeter-by-centimeter flow of her blood, expansion of her lungs, ticking of her mind, pumping of her heart.

And when she finally had enough air in her lungs to scream, she did.

. . .

Rowan had been one inch from touching Aelin when the scream shattered out of her. He wouldn't have been able to see the moment just beforehand when everything changed on Aelin's face had he not been used to watching so closely.

"Aelin!" he shouted, though he knew it obviously would do nothing to help.

She fell, and in seconds, he had her in his arms, gently lowering her to the ground. He sat, with her head in his lap, searching her desperately for whatever could be wrong.

 _Fixfixfixfixfixfixfixfixfixfixfixfixfixfixfixfixfix._

 _Protectprotectprotectprotectprotectprotect._

 _Matematematematematematematematemate._

Then Yrene was there. She reached out, hands facing downward toward Aelin. Rowan knew, logically, that she was trying to help, but his instincts didn't stop him before releasing a feral snarl. Chaol, now also by her side, placed his hands up in surrender.

"She's going to help," he promised. "She's going to see what's wrong. She won't hurt her." Rowan, of course, already knew this and forced himself to nod in confirmation and to give permission, and yet every single cell in his body was alert and clawing through Rowan's walls in an attempt to attack anyone who touched his mate.

Now, mind you, this is something Rowan never thought he'd think, but he was immensely grateful when Aedion showed up at his side. Instead of going for Aelin like Rowan expected, the golden-haired male took out his dagger and pressed down on the skin of Rowan's wrist. The pain was nowhere near enough to distract Rowan from Aelin, but it did distract him from Yrene, moving her hands around Aelin's body, searching, searching…

"Oh…oh, my Gods…" Yrene groaned, slumping backwards into Chaol—who now asked a nearby servant to bring him a crutch, because Yrene's use of her powers under so much pressure had put enough stress on their bond that his injuries were returning—as he caught her in his arms.

"What," Rowan growled, not a question, but a demand. Aedion echoed the sentiment, though slightly less deadly.

Yrene looked Rowan in the eye, pushing away from Chaol so that she could stand tall and confident. "She should be fine," the breath rushed out of both Rowan and Aedion in a relieved sigh, though neither of them missed that one word: _should._

"It looks like…she's Settling," and just like that, with the completion of Yrene's thought, Rowan's chest tightened once more. Even incredibly strong Fae males sometimes didn't survive the process. Most healers said that if the warrior fought the change, it fought back, causing serious damage to that male or female's body. And Aelin…

She certainly was a fighter.

He could only pray that she had the sense to know the difference between a well-meaning thought pain-inducing friend, and a true foe.

With the help of Aedion, Lorcan, and Gavriel, Rowan carried Aelin's writhing form back to her room. The bed, through the magic of the palace, had been remade, though Rowan saw flashes of the shambles it had been in after…

What foolish teenagers they'd been.

He carefully placed her on the bed while someone went to get ice and warm towels—they didn't know which would be better—and Rowan clutched Aelin's hand like he could pull her through the transformation. And he waited.

That was all he could do.

All, he realized, he'd ever been doing.

Waiting for a Fireheart.

Well, damn the Gods. He wasn't about to let her get away that easily. Aelin might be a fighter, but Rowan sure as hell was too.

. . .

Yrene said the Settling could take days. It differed for every Fae, but usually, with the stronger ones, it took longer. For the smarter ones, apparently, it took less time.

"The shortest I've ever heard of was twelve hours," Yrene explained to Aedion as they stood outside Aelin's closed door.

Aedion had been playing bodyguard to not only Aelin, but Rowan as well. Or, anyone who tried to get close to either of them. Aedion had felt the exact moment when Rowan's control snapped and the creature inside of him was released. He knew that someone could show up now with a simple push-button solution to all of their problems and Rowan would unleash hell upon them and their gods-damned button. So he stood.

Yrene had wanted to give this news to Rowan herself, but after Aedion had told Yrene of how Rowan had once attacked a demi-Fae for simply making a joke about Rowan's wingspan in hawk form, she'd agreed to relay the message through Aedion.

"Thanks," Aedion said. When Yrene turned to leave, however, he asked her one more question. "Do you think Aelin will survive it?"

Aedion didn't know if you wanted the truth or for her to just say yes, no matter what.

Yrene smiled warmly, and responded, "I think that Aelin Galathynius can survive anything."

Adarlan, Arobynn, Cain, Erawan, gods-damned _Rowan,_ and Maeve? Yes, he believed she could too. Aedion nodded with a tight-lipped smile in return, and she headed off.

Seconds later, Lysandra rounded the corner. She placed her back to the wall and slumped to the ground. Despite Aedion's protective instincts, he followed suit just moments after her.

"Is that story really true?" she asked with a devious smirk on her face.

Aedion nodded, but she wasn't looking at him, so he continued, "Apparently, some long ago ancestor told a few people that a Fae males wingspan correlates with…" He grimaced, but it was more like a smile.

Thankfully, Lysandra wasn't the giggle-and-blush type. She only put on a fake pout, looked Aedion in the eye, and said, "It's too bad you don't have any wings."

Aedion's jaw dropped. "I…b-but…I…wha…" he sputtered. Silence followed for a few moments, Lysandra keeping up her mocking face, Aedion jaw's slowly opening enough to touch the floor. It was _so tense…_

And then she burst out laughing. She braced herself on her knees and cackled loud enough to wake the King of Adarlan from the dead. He could almost hear Rowan growling at them from deep inside Aelin's room.

He'd started hesitantly laughing along with her, but the thought process he was rapidly following in his head was not funny at all.

Aedion prayed to whatever useless gods let this girl be so mistreated that he would remember that sound for the rest of his mortal life. Her laugh was…as unbelievably beautiful as she was. Not in her human form, sharp angles, stunning eyes, countless assets and all…

No, what came to mind instead was Lysandra in her ghost leopard form. When she looked happy and ferocious and terrifyingly captivating. Her laugh…

He understood. He understood Rowan, now.

Aedion forced himself to laugh along with Rowan to cover the epiphany he was going though internally.

"Well, Lysandra, darling, we could just put wings on you," he pointed out.

She looked appalled. "But I'm a _woman,_ you bat-headed fool!" she choked out between remaining howls of laughter.

Aedion tipped his head dangerously close to hers, "Are you?" he asked with a tone that said, _Come on, now._

And with that, they were doubled over laughing once again.

. . .

It felt like so long in the writhing darkness before Aelin began to see stars in it. Stars that were more than that. Stars that were people. People who were long gone.

Nehemia.

Her parents.

Sam.

Marion.

Even Sorcha.

They whispered stolen words to her. Some were heartbreaking.

"You're a coward. You're nothing more than a coward."

Some were heartwarming.

"I love you. I have for _years_."

All of them fueled her and broke her and sacrificed her and convinced her until she was standing again. Still in that hurting, healing place. But standing in front of Rowan.

 _How was he here?_

Obviously, she didn't know or care. Not as he pulled her into her arms and whispered some more stolen words. "You can't fight. I will bring you home. Do not fight. Just lie down. Fireheart. Mine. Mate. Love…"

As she drifted back into darkness, his words faded into fragments.

But, she realized. They were not stolen words. They were _her_ words. Given to her willingly.

 _Mine,_ she thought. _Mine to keep._

The darkness pulled, trying to reclaim what it had stolen from her in the first place. But for Rowan, she would not fight. She let him fight for, like he'd been begging to do all this time. She let someone else have the reins.

 _Just for a moment._ As Rowan carried her towards light, she suddenly knew. But it wasn't sudden. It was floating, bubbling, something she had always known. Everyone told her to stand tall. But it was okay to lean on someone else for a while.

In Rowan's arms, she could relinquish power. In Rowan's arms, she could do anything.

 **WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNIGN WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING**

 **AT THIS POINT, THOSE OF YOU WHO WOULD PREFER NOT TO PERHAPS DAMAGE WHATEVER DEVICE YOU ARE READING ON AND OR BURST INTO SCARY, UGLY, SJM-INDUCED TEARS, I INVITE YOU TO STOP READING NOW. FOR YOU, THIS WILL BE THE END OF THIS FIC. THANKS FOR READING.**

 **AS FOR THOSE OF YOU WOULD LIKE TO REMAIN, CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK.**

I WARNED YOU

The darkness pulled at her, one last warning. The light at the end, it seemed to be getting smaller. And Rowan…he seemed to be getting colder.

No.

Wait.

STOP.

PLEASE.

Don't…

no

They had entombed her in darkness and iron.

I CAN FEEL EVERYONE WHO DECIDED TO KEEP READING HATING ME SO MUCH THAT I'M STARTING TO HATE MYSELF FOR YOU. I'M SO SORRY. A WRITER MUST REMAIN REALISTIC. IT'S THE ONLY WAY THIS WORKS. ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE FIRST EIGHT AND A HALF CHAPTERS.

P.S.

Try ice cream. It helps with the sadness.


End file.
